Delivery services need to ask their mothers for help.

A parcel delivered by Citylink couldn’t be delivered through my letterbox so I was left a handy ransom note instead.  There was a telephone number to dial that would rarely be answered and, when it was, I had the option to decipher the unique number scrawled across the card in order to re-book a delivery. It would generally take a few attempts, “I don’t know, try S, No? Try 5 then” and so on until my parcel details would pop up.  I really don’t know why my house number and postcode isn’t enough. With DHL they use barcodes which I thought were easy to read until someone in the Truro depot told me that when they get into the depot they are reassigned new barcodes and sometimes the two barcodes don’t get paired together properly.  Anyway, an agreed date to re-deliver would be then duly ignored and another “failed to deliver” would drop through the letterbox with the message that the parcel had been returned to sender and to please contact sender. Details about who the sender may have been remain unknown.  A slightly metaphysical quandary.
Lost parcels are as much fun, the depot can’t locate the parcel so do you want to make a claim? Please specify what you have lost. Tricky as you don’t know what it is, conveniently you can’t make a claim. I was once asked if I knew what it was.  It was Christmas, was I expected to phone up everyone I knew and ask if they had sent a present to my son? Can you imagine how awkward that conversation would be? “Hi, did you send us a present?” “No.” “OK”…”Should I have sent you a present?” yuk.
But I have the solution. If a parcel company is having a logistics issue they should ask a mum to come in and sort it out. 
Last week after a rugby skills session in Truro I collected my eldest and his mate, and headed to Lanivet roundabout to rendezvous with his mate’s mother whereby she handed over my second son who had been staying with friends near her, as well as eldest son’s bags left behind from a sleepover and I handed over her son.  At these moments we tend to grin at each other, just check that we have the right amount of bags and the correct children in the car and drive off. No journey is wasted as we pick up from others and drop off along the way.  This swapping of children also means that parents can go to work whilst other parents look after a whole brood.  Being self employed may mean that you work very odd hours but it also means you can be pretty flexible.
So far none of us have been forced to phone up a faceless depot and try to describe what our son looks like and could they please try to redeliver him, along with his bags and before 10.00 so that we can go to the beach.
Towards the end of summer there is the general “Who’s shoes are these?” and the round of e-mails asking if anyone has seen a raincoat and gradually, by the first week of September, all is back in place and we can all collapse. So DHL next time you can’t find my parcel give your Mum a call and ask her if she knows where it is!

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