Wednesday, September 19, 2007

It's no wonder postal services are becoming obsolete.

My baby girl lives far far away and I only get to see her 2 or 3 times a year. Thank God for cell phones, email and Facebook, but I miss her.

Last week I sent her a package of treats in the mail. It was only $3 more to send by Express Post so I chose that option. I got a tracking number and could monitor when it arrived. As promised it was in Vancouver on the delivery truck within 48 hours. But she didn't get it. The next day the tracking number informed me the package was "forwarded to recipient's new address."

Funny, she hadn't mentioned anything about moving.

I waited another day and tracked it again. Still nothing. So I decided I'd better let her know I sent it and double check her address with her. I dialed her phone number.

"The number you have dialed is not in service."

Okay, I have to say this mom's heart sort of stopped for a moment. No address. No phone. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen her on Facebook for a week neither.

I pressed redial on my phone and looked at the number on the call display. I dialed a 3 instead of an 8. Had I been in a more calm situation I probably would have thought about the old Trooper song - Just a 3 Dressed Up as a Nine, or eight or whatever. But I was very relieved to hear her voice say "Hel-low."

I told her about the parcel and confirmed her address. Ooops. I forgot to add "East" to her street name. A week goes by and nothing changes on the tracking site. I take drastic measures and phone the post office 800 number.

The woman on the phone was very helpful in telling me the parcel was waiting for pick up. They should have received a pick-up notice, but if I give them the tracking number they can pick it up at the Pine Centre Post Office. Uhh... hang on. That's where I sent it from. It was going to Vancouver.

So off I trudge to the Pine Centre to pick up my mis-labelled package. They would not give it back to me until I paid another $8.94 plus GST for the shipping back to PG. This comes to a total of $9.48. When she rang it through my debit card it came to $10.05. I questioned this.

My poor husband standing beside me shifted from one foot to another looking around hoping he didn't recognize anyone while his wife was freaking out over 57 cents. "It's not the woman's fault. Just pay it," he mutters to me.

That's not the point. I am already ticked off that the postal employees cannot figure out from the postal code that it's East 41st not West 41st. I refuse to pay GST on my GST to get back a parcel that I have paid over $20 to have it go no where.

It will probably be a while before my husband goes down town with me again, and the Post Office cash will be out by 57 cents at the end of the day, but the clerks can go home knowing that for 57 cents they saved someone from going postal on them.

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