Dear Royal Mail
Dear Royal Mail,
I have a few questions for you.
Why does our postman leave packages outside our front door, in full view of the street? The clue is in the job title: POSTman. You post things. How can you fail at that?
Why does our local sorting office not answer the phone? Are they too busy adding charges to our packages because the postman didn’t have anywhere to display our mail outside our houses?
Why does your head office – when finding out my phone call is in relation to a complaint – put me through to an automated service? Is your automated service any better than my answering machine? Would I be better off asking a Magic 8 Ball? Probably not, because I don’t have one, so I’d have to order one online, and it’d never get delivered.
Why does our postman not even knock on the door when a package does not fit through the letterbox? Does he have no hands? That’s the only conclusion I can draw, but even then, perhaps he should use his head, because he certainly doesn’t use it for anything else.
Why does our postman not ask us to sign for packages which senders have paid a large sum of money to have Signed For status? Can he not read the large red sticker which adorns the package? Maybe being a postman isn’t the right job for him.
Why do we receive mail for our neighbours? We live on a street where all the numbers are clearly displayed right next to the front doors. Does he not understand the difference between 55 and 53? We just put it back in the post box so that you can try again.
Are any of your postmen actually capable of reading, or understanding numbers? Are they able to post things? What exactly is the process you have to go through to become a postman? Do you just pick brainless, armless aliens who have a predilection for short trousers and the colour red, and happen to stumble near a post office one murkey night? Is some kind of secret scientific experiment going on where sheeps’ brains have been put into human bodies to see if the rest of us real humans notice any difference?
The worrying thing is, what happens when your postmen get a promotion? Is there any intermidiary training? If my postman can’t read the words ‘SIGN FOR’, are you qualified to answer this email? Or do I have to phone up your extortionate 0845 number, complete an assult course through your telephone system, and have a discussion with your automated services to find out the post codes of Adam Crozier’s and Moya Greene’s houses, so that I can personally ask a CEO why your staff are less than incapable? What happens when Mr Crozier has ordered a £50 Blu-ray boxset of season 7 of 24 from Amazon.com, and it’s just left out on the street for passers-by to take at their will? Who does he complain to? Himself? I bet Mr Crozier just picks up his own mail as he leaves the office, fully aware that his staff are merely there so that he is CEO rather than the sole postman of the entire UK. Incidentally, I’m sure Jack Bauer could have the entire Royal Mail system running far more effectively in 24 hours.
Since you have created your website and phone systems so that customers are unable to complain, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to make sure I’m ready for when our postman arrives, and pose these questions to him myself. I’ll have a video camera ready.
I look forward to your answers – and to a time when everything is done digitally and the Royal Mail staff can go back to being single cell amoebae who don’t have to worry themselves with the taxing task of knocking on a door or putting an envelope through a door.