Through the Eyes of a Delivery Goddess |
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One Saturday morning I received a "Wet Complaint" while I was still at the Post Gazette Depot pre-stuffing the available Sunday paper parts. Since our regular route manager's weekend days are Friday and Saturday, we had a relief man, which is just someone who jumps from depot to depot filling in for weekends and vacations. They don't have a "home base" so to speak, so they aren't always familiar with the area they're in charge of for the day. Our relief man asked me if I was driving by the customer on the way home, would I throw them another paper. Since these folks had complained in the past, I had gone above and beyond by tying the first plastic bag, then sliding another one over top so that if the outer bag got holes in from hitting the driveway, the second bag would still keep the moisture out. It was raining, and normally, we try to toss papers at the edge of the driveway into the grass so they DON'T get pinholes from the pavement, but these folks had a problem with picking it up out of the grass, so I had double bagged to avoid a complaint, which obviously, worked well. (**insert eyes rolling here**) This is a housing plan we lovingly call "Crybaby Condos". Many folks who move into these quad carriage homes are handicapped, and I don't begrudge anyone extra service if they honestly have a situation that requires the paper to be tossed to the porch, or requires us to get out and set the paper on a chair or something like that. We have a few homes where the husband and wife are BOTH in wheelchairs, and we usually put the paper in the door, or on a table on the porch - whatever they find easiest. However, we also have folks living in that plan who walk their dog daily, and are out on their hands and knees planting flowers, but tell the office they're handicapped so they can take advantage of porch delivery also. I think my biggest gripe here, is that the mailboxes for these homes are similar to a trailer park, where they are one big metal box with locked pigeon holes on a post - and there are five total boxes for the 88 homes in the plan, so they MUST find a way to the mailbox every day - it is not delivered to their door. The garbage has to be at the curb; the garbage men don't pick up the garbage from the porches, so sometimes, we tend to feel a bit used when someone who really isn't handicapped requests something special. We've gotten used to just driving up each driveway and backing out, which has been a wonderful experience for our transmissions. In the newer part where the homes are closer to the street and the driveways are only two car-lengths long, you can pretty much just drive by on the street and throw the paper close enough to the house. My story today involves a customer who lives in one of these newer homes, so I had originally just tossed the paper up into the driveway. By the time I got to their house to deliver the replacement, I decided I needed to rush home to the restroom, so I was just going to throw a new paper as far as I could and not get out of the truck. Of course ... OF COURSE ... the paper landed in their mulch, which I knew would be a problem, so I ended up getting out of the truck, anyway. As I picked up the paper from the mulch to toss it to the porch, a woman who I would guess to be about 70 - 75, hardly five feet tall, maybe 80 pounds soaking wet, came out to "greet" me. This was 8am on a Saturday morning and she was dressed in full jewelry and heels, as if they were on their way to church. Right away, she demanded to know why she received a wet paper. Somehow, just saying "because it's raining" didn't seem like the appropriate answer, even though it was one hundred percent true. She put her hands on her hips, and in a lecturing tone of voice said, "I don't understand why I received a wet paper. I don't see why my Tribune Review is totally dry, and yours is sopping wet... do you want to see it?? I saved it for you. I'll show you - it's just absolutely UNREADABLE. What kind of job do you think you're doing - what kind of service are you profiding if I you can't deliver a readable product?" In between sentences, I kept saying, "ma'am, I'm sorry - I put two bags on the paper, I took precautions, I can't control what the paper does after it hits the ground. I don't know why the Trib would be dry and my PG would be wet..." ... and on and on. I finally got upset when she poked her boney finger into my chest and said, "... and you'd better shape up and fly right if you want to keep customers..." OK.. that was IT! I interrupted her by raising my voice just enough that she knew I meant business. I said, "Look - I don't know what you want from me. I said several times I was sorry. I double bagged, I tried to toss it as close to the house as possible. I took all of the precautions I could, with the exception of tossing into the grass, which, if you'd PERMIT, you'd find would save the paper from getting wet through both bags. Now, I don't know why the Trib seemed to float on the water and stay dry, but I said I was sorry, I can't change anything that's already happened, I brought you another paper, DO YOU WANT IT OR NOT?????" She withdrew a bit, took a deep breath and said, "I suppose you won't need to worry about it, we're moving next week." I tried not to sound snotty, "Oh - where to?". She told me, and I replied, "Thank God, you'll be someone else's problem, then". I turned and walked down the driveway and drove away. she was still standing outside, all dressed up, it was starting to rain, as she watched me drive away. I called my friend who delivered the Tribune Review and told her that I wanted some of her waterproof bags. We laughed, and she said she'd NEVER had a problem with this lady. ...And that leads me to tomorrow's installment of Curbside Etiquette. |