Remember letters? And parcels?

Ah the old days… when by some miracle, each day you would receive a selection of letters, bills and other assorted mail delivered right through your letterbox. Twice a day.

Then just once a day, but that was fine. Then… slightly later in the day. But still, you got your letters, bills, postcards and yes, even your junk mail.  Remember the thrill of opening those special letters and parcels?

No? Me neither. As it’s been so bloody long since I’ve received any post. Thanks to the Communist Party of Great Britain CWU, post in London has been an unmitigated disaster for weeks now. Strikes and the accompanying general disruption have meant that the sporadic arrival of mail in my household is greeted like food parcels in a POW camp.

Strangely, the delivery of junkmail has continued through thick and thin. I can only attribute this to the Pizza Menu Ninjas, creatures who are able to gain access to my apartment building when postmen can’t (in fact, especially when postmen can’t) and slip their ever-so-tempting bill of fare through my letterbox. Silently. Again, something our local postmen can’t manage.

While I’m at it, here’s a list of other things our local postal-peeps can’t appear to do:

  • Deliver anything before midday
  • Deliver magazines without (apparently) kicking them around in the gutter first
  • Ensure somebody signs for special delivery parcels, instead of leaving them in the lobby
  • Not bend all envelopes clearly marked “Do not Bend”

Sigh.

Please CWU – stop being cocks and let your members get back to work.

  1. Ach! Feh and oy!

    Oooo! Guess what happened yesterday…No, guess!

    I got a PHONE call from the POST OFFICE. Sholy Hit!

    I didn’t recognize the number, so I let them leave a message. Since I live in the midst of the Big Woods, there’s only so many postal workers at the outpost…Same gal answered, as called, and she was sooooo nice. She was troubled over the fact that she sees (have comPUters, they do!) that I was supposed to receive something WEEKS ago and she shows no signs of it ever reaching Deep Space Nine.
    -I’m mixing metaphors and couldn’t care less

    More worrisome, it was supposed to arrive by Pony Express, not the usual covered-wagon type of delivery.

    I had a nice chit-chat with her about phoning ATT 3 times and it’s actually THEIR fault, not USPS.

    She’d have none of it. It’s her responsibility to know these things (granted, she’s coming in a wee bit late to check up on a 2 day priority-paid with signature confirmation parcel).

    Pity she’s the only one involved who cares but nonetheless, it warmed the cockles of my cold, cast-iron heart. Still no iPhone but someone involved cares.

    Fuckers.

    Like

    Reply

    1. Nice of her to call, albeit late. So what’s the outcome? Any compensation? Promises of iPhone arrival? Or do you simply just have a new friend at the Post Office?

      This iPhone will seem all the sweeter once it (finally) arrives…

      Like

      Reply

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