Fucking Hell, Sean!
To give this blog post some context, as we get a few deliveries each month from DPD, they’ve been pestering me to download their new, all-singing, all-dancing app.
Anyway, I downloaded the app, updated my details, and gave clear instructions that deliveries should be left in the shed in my back garden if no one was home.
First thing this morning I received a text AND an email (very efficient I thought) stating: “Sean will deliver your *Flavourly parcel TODAY between 8.26 am – 9.26 am” (*Flavourly is a beer company. I like beer. A lot).
At 8.56 am I got another email: “Great news! Your beer has been delivered. Click the HERE button for details” Yippee! I think. I’ll be coming home to some nice new beer thanks to good old Sean the driver!
So I did click the HERE button for details. I was then able to see the photo (below) of where lovely Sean had left my nice new box of beer…
…which isn’t in the shed.
It’s on a bench NEXT to the shed.
The shed is the brown building 3ft to the right of my beer.
I have a south-facing garden that gets hot even on relatively cool days. Where the box was left means that in a couple of hours the cans will, literally, start to explode in the heat.
The email goes on to ask if I’m happy with the delivery service.
I click “no”.
It then asks if I’d like to speak to someone.
I click “yes”.
I then get connected to DPD customer services. And this is when the fun began…
DPD: Hi, Ian, we can see you aren’t happy with your delivery. What seems to be the problem?
ME: Can you see the photo of where my delivery has been left?
DPD: Yes
ME: On the instruction page you’ve got in front of you, where did I ask for the delivery to be left?
DPD: In the shed in your garden.
ME: Is the delivery in the shed.
DPD: No
ME: You see that wooden door 3ft to the right of where my beer is? That’s the shed door.
DPD: Oh! Do you want us to contact the driver?
ME: Yes, please. He needs to come back immediately and put the box in the shed as it will probably be about 40 degrees in my garden by lunchtime and the contents – cans of beer – will explode if it’s left where it is.
DPD: We’ll ring you back after speaking to the driver
5 minutes later …
DPD: the driver said the shed was locked.
ME: Did he? Wow! That’s brilliant, because after leaving the house an hour ago, someone must have popped into my garden and, with an act of exceptional neighbourly goodwill, fitted a lock on my shed door.
DPD: But it WAS locked. The driver said so.
ME: My shed has never had a lock on it and I’ve lived here 11 years.
DPD: Oh! I’ll speak to the driver again and call you back.
5 minutes later …
DPD: The driver said he’d pop back and put it in the shed after he’s finished his other deliveries. The door must have been stiff so he put the box in the shade as the sun wasn’t directly overhead.
ME: Of course the sun wasn’t directly overhead, it was 8.56 am! And let’s face it, I hardly think he’s a qualified meteorologist if he can’t work out how to open a shed door.
Long pause…
DPD: You’re probably right, we’ll get someone round to put it in the shed ASAP
Fucking hell, Sean! Go home tonight and read your “opening a shed door” training manual for fucks sake.
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