Stand and Don't Deliver
For those who have spent all day waiting in for a delivery only to discover a little card mysteriously appear on the doormat with the words: ‘Sorry we missed you’, there may be a sigh of recognition for the woeful tale of my curtain pole.
I ordered a curtain pole on the internet and agreed to the delivery period of 3-5 working days. I booked the handyman. I booked the window cleaner – no point in attracting attention to the curtains if you’ve got dirty panes. I even booked my husband to stand around and ‘supervise’.
Joy oh joy, the prospect of being able to draw the bedroom curtains rather than peg them up Heath Robinson style over the window frames. Two days before the expected delivery date, I called the pole company (their name involves the words ‘pole’ and ‘just’ in case you are wondering) to check that we were still ‘on track’.
It was then I was told that the curtain pole had been discontinued; this was clearly on a need-to-know basis and something the customer didn’t need to know. In a frothing fury, I asked for a refund (not unreasonable) and then set myself the task of finding a new pole. Two whole days – surely it was possible?
A new company surfaced, their sales team more attuned to the possibility that the client might actually want to receive the product and an express delivery slot booked. And so it was, two days later, that three grown men stood around in a house waiting for a knock on the door that never came.
According to the Consumer Contracts Regulations you are able to claim compensation if you take time off work and wait for a delivery that never comes. But who has time to chase companies that employ delivery drivers with the invisibility skills of the Milk Tray man?
Or worse, delivery drivers who are paid by the parcel? These are the ones who dump your purchases in a bin, or leave them on the doorstep rather than seek out a signature. Or, as in the case of Benjamin Ward in Hove, attempt to throw the parcel over the house and into your garden, leaving Mr Ward with possibly the oddest excuse on aborted delivery: ‘Stuck on roof – sorry!’
Admittedly the company sent the courier back with a ladder to retrieve the parcel from Mr Ward’s gutter, but was it too much to ask that he try the old-fashioned system of leaving it with the next-door neighbour?
Next week: Ladies who lunch
I ordered a curtain pole on the internet and agreed to the delivery period of 3-5 working days. I booked the handyman. I booked the window cleaner – no point in attracting attention to the curtains if you’ve got dirty panes. I even booked my husband to stand around and ‘supervise’.
Joy oh joy, the prospect of being able to draw the bedroom curtains rather than peg them up Heath Robinson style over the window frames. Two days before the expected delivery date, I called the pole company (their name involves the words ‘pole’ and ‘just’ in case you are wondering) to check that we were still ‘on track’.
It was then I was told that the curtain pole had been discontinued; this was clearly on a need-to-know basis and something the customer didn’t need to know. In a frothing fury, I asked for a refund (not unreasonable) and then set myself the task of finding a new pole. Two whole days – surely it was possible?
A new company surfaced, their sales team more attuned to the possibility that the client might actually want to receive the product and an express delivery slot booked. And so it was, two days later, that three grown men stood around in a house waiting for a knock on the door that never came.
According to the Consumer Contracts Regulations you are able to claim compensation if you take time off work and wait for a delivery that never comes. But who has time to chase companies that employ delivery drivers with the invisibility skills of the Milk Tray man?
Or worse, delivery drivers who are paid by the parcel? These are the ones who dump your purchases in a bin, or leave them on the doorstep rather than seek out a signature. Or, as in the case of Benjamin Ward in Hove, attempt to throw the parcel over the house and into your garden, leaving Mr Ward with possibly the oddest excuse on aborted delivery: ‘Stuck on roof – sorry!’
Admittedly the company sent the courier back with a ladder to retrieve the parcel from Mr Ward’s gutter, but was it too much to ask that he try the old-fashioned system of leaving it with the next-door neighbour?
Next week: Ladies who lunch