Dear slovens
I appreciate the stress that doing a job of work can sometimes cause, and fully understand that quite often there is the utterly justified reluctance to do the work one is being paid for, so it is with absolutely no surprise I find that you consistently fail to deliver my post on time, and even to the slack standards you have set yourselves.
To wit, one letterbox sized packet marked “Urgent and Perishable” which, when sent First Class (an oxymoron of the most erudite wit, if ever there was a candidate!), took a full eight days to arrive. This is a weekly, scheduled, package, which almost never arrives on time, and even if it does then it’s only by what must be sheer accident of scheduling.
I have to say that I don’t really irk at the recent price hikes, but what I really do take umbrage with is the fact that there really is no value for money in the service you provide. If you deem a service to be “first class”, and require a commensurate level of remuneration for it, then first class it really must be. Most organisations have SLAs with their customers, and many of those have penalties or some form of compensatory remediation, available upon breach of said SLA. something you might want to think about. No, wait – strike that – something you would NEVER want to think about, given your current approach to delivery schedules.
Could it be that the delivery address is a business park? Is that an issue for you, or is it just me that you can’t be arsed to deliver on time to? I’ve written to the sender each time this occurs (oh, did I not say – this is a regular occurrence!), recommending that they choose an alternative mail delivery provider. Oh wait, you have sole responsibility for the national delivery of mail. Sounds a little like a monopoly to me, especially in this day and age.
Or, it could just be down to our miserable postie, who opens the door and throws our post in, even when it’s covered in “FRAGILE” tape. He’s a love, a real charmer.
Oh, and now you want to give my post to my drug-addled skank neighbours (who, I have to be fair, are actually neither – for now). No, that’s not what you’re paid to do, and I don’t believe it warrants the moniker “first class”.
Pah!
All Pinky, No Brain 