ON A SCALE OF ONE TO TEN – Marilyn Armstrong

RDP – #31 SCALE

On a scale of 1 to 10, asked the survey, how do you feel about our delivery service?

I have been a patron of Amazon for quite a few years. Maybe eight or nine at this point? They have always been easy to work with. They’ve had their issues, of course, and there have been bumps in the road, too. I’ve gone with them over the bumps to the smoother paving down the road and I really thought we had worked it out.

Then, they decided to add their own delivery service because … well … money and all of that. Amazon Logistics was going to be their own special delivery service. This would be the one who could get you your package in 24 hours, even on Sunday or a national holiday. Good idea. Unfortunate location.

It was a perfectly reasonable theory, but they didn’t understand there are places in this world where the standard GPS doesn’t have a real grip on location. It thinks all the roads are driveable. Maybe if you are in a jeep and very careful about the swamps through which you are passing and you never stray off the narrow road, you might get here. If not,  the mud will joyfully suck your car all the way to your door frame.

The Blackstone Valley is that kind of place.

We get deliveries. We get deliveries almost daily in non-snow months. I do a lot of my shopping online. We are both getting older. Not hauling heavy boxes and having them delivered make life easier. UPS, FedEx, and the USPS are daily visitors. They have no problem finding our house or getting our packages to the table by the rear garage door. But their drivers know the area and they know to not take the back roads.

No one goes on those back roads unless they are afoot and looking for interesting photos … or their dog really loves that swampy smell.

Logistics, on the other hand, has yet to find us. Ever. They sometimes deliver our packages to other towns. Our neighbors. The middle of the woods. A number of them have simply disappeared, never to be seen again. Moreover, they have set up this cool delivery service so you can see the truck on which they have loaded your package and follow its movements as it advances towards your house. In theory.

Yesterday, I had a package coming. Free 24 hour delivery — so what could possibly go wrong?

I watched the truck from when it was up in North Uxbridge. They said there were six more stops before us. We are always the final stop.

I watched the truck as it left its delivery point and supposedly head for our house. It was about 2 miles away. All the driver had to do was turn around, get back onto Route 146A, drive one mile. Make a right. Go one more mile and voilà, there we are. You can see the house and the driveway on Google. It’s a little harder in the summer with all the leaves on the trees, but we aren’t hidden behind a fence or a hill.

And, as I already mentioned, UPS, FedEx, and the post office have no problem finding us. Apparently, neither does Google.

Our delivery woman headed — not towards the main road but via our most twisting, tiny roads which wander through woods and swamp. They will, if you know how to do it, eventually– after crossing the Misty Meadows Golf Course — get you here. It’s not the shortest or easiest easy way to get anywhere in this valley, but if you make manage to make it to the other side of the golf course, go straight ahead on Chocolog Road. You’ll be in our driveway chick-chack. We are a blink away from the golf course. You can walk there from here. Even I can walk there from here.

She didn’t go straight ahead onto Chocolog road. Obviously hopelessly lost, she made a left back onto West Street and headed for Milford. Into the “delivery instructions” box I typed “YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY! TURN AROUND!”

She didn’t turn around and the truck trundled on towards Milford.

“No, no,” I cried into my computer. Then I got myself on the phone to Amazon. For once, it didn’t take me an hour to find their number and I very quickly explained that the truck had gone in the wrong direction and was leaving my town and heading who knew where. I wanted her to come back. Now. Before my package vanished, never to be seen again.

Eventually, I realized that by some kind of magic, the truck had landed in my driveway. I was still ON the phone with Amazon. I then realized she wasn’t getting out of the car to deliver the package. I took the phone and the Amazon lady with me. Barefoot down the steps and up the gravelly driveway to the vehicle.

“Give me my package,” I said. It was late, almost seven. I was hungry. I’d been awaiting the package all day.

“I can’t give you the package,” she explained, her voice sensual with her lovely West Indian accent. “I need your access code.”

Access code? What access code?

“Is the package addressed to this location?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Is it addressed to Marilyn Armstrong?” I questioned.

“Yes,” she said, “But you need an access code.”

What access code? I’ve never needed an access code for Amazon or any other delivery service. Not even when Apple was delivering two computers.

By then, Garry had arrived. I could see that blood was going to be spilled in my driveway that warm summer evening.

“Give me my package, ” I said, gritting my teeth. “Give it to me.  Now. You are at the right address and I am the designated recipient. You are NOT leaving here without giving me the package.”

“Let me speak to her,” said the Amazon Lady.

An argument ensued. Eventually, I got the box, which was labeled “oversized” even though the item inside it was a small, still camera. I guess they ran out of normal-size boxes. I let it pass. “Just give me the box, please. Now.”

She handed me the package, worried that she had not gotten whatever code she thought I should have. She had already noticed there wasn’t any code on the box, so I’m not sure exactly how she would know if I had a code or not.

As I trundled back up the stairs — my feet felt sandy and stuck with little pebbles — the Amazon Lady said she was going to try to make them never send Logistics to my house again. I said that seemed like a fine approach and I was very sure it would be a good solution.

So.

On a scale of 1 to 10 — what would you give this delivery? 10 for the helpfulness of the lady on the phone? Or minus two for whoever designed the GPS for the driver.

Suggestions?

28 thoughts on “ON A SCALE OF ONE TO TEN – Marilyn Armstrong”

      1. If the survey gave you the option to write a paragraph, I might be tempted to give it a 5, with a comment about the driver and a comment about the Amazon Lady. Otherwise, no answer!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I think the quality of that delivery rates a minus 10 on the gong meter. But given that she’s a sistah from the Islands, I’d give her a mulligan. I wouldn’t want to see her sent back home — down away — where the knights are gay.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Damn, Marilyn! Perfect example of how the easier they try to make things, the harder they become. I usually have my things sent to Forgottenman and pick them up when I go to the states once a year to straighten him out. After so many problems tracking or receiving packages, he’s made me promise not to order from anyone but Amazon. Luckily, he lives in a town and so far has never needed to give a number of any sorts. I think that was a new delivery lady. So, how did you like the camera?? I just got my Canon and short of not knowing how to do the wifi, I’m liking it.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. If I figure out how to use it, I’m sure I’ll love it, but there are a bunch of things I can’t seem to figure out yet. At least they included a manual. Unfortunately, they put it on a DVD and this machine doesn’t have a DVD, so I have to dig the portable out. Meanwhile, at least I can now take pictures. It’s a great camera … but it’s got the usual 8 million settings, most of which I have no use for and the rest of which they don’t even explain. How can you set them when you don’t know what they are supposed to do?

      Amazon Logistics is supposed to be their answer to UPS. But they have never actually managed to find our house. As for the code, there WAS no code. There’s an empty box to put in a code, but there was nothing in the box.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. That is the thing about living rurally. We are ALWAYS the last delivery. We never get anything on time including our regular mail, which is always whenever they finally get around to our street — which can be a week after everyone else got their stuff.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Give the lady on the phone her due, BUT complain, loud and long about that stupid code business. You know why the lady driver insisted on it, don’t you? Because (in my opinion) those Logistics drivers are the first wave of AI drone/clones and they can’t vary from their programming. Just like most ‘helpful ((so NOT)) Customer Service agents on the phone, they have a script and they MUST stick to it. No matter how obviously stupid that script might be. I think you got lucky with your phone person, I hope she gets a raise, because she’s rare, man, oh so rare. I’m glad your camera got there in one piece and you were able to actually GET it. Life in the outback is not for the faint of heart.. 😉

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    1. Don’t I know it! Always the last delivery on the route. Always the house no one can find. Even our standard USPS mail is always a few days (or weeks!) late. A letter from the other side of town can take 10 days to get here because the mail deliverer gets tired and goes home before he or she gets here. And in the winter? Forgeddabboutit. We don’t exist until the snow melts!

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  3. I am speechless and perhaps glad that Amazon doesn’t exist in Switzerland, I just upload my books on Kindle. Goods are never delivered free in Switzerland, you always have to pay.

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    1. They would find you because you live in a town. Everything is numbered and there are lights. But we are RURAL. We don’t live in the city or suburbs. We don’t even live in one of the many small towns, so houses aren’t numbered and the roads have no lights. If you don’t know where you are going, you WILL get lost. Anyone who lives in the country knows what I mean. There are always tons of little tiny roads that were not designed for cars or trucks. Often, they have no names. They were designs for horses and carts coming and going from the local mills. It was when I saw her truck in the middle of Misty Meadows golf course that I knew we were in trouble.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I wouldn’t take the survey at all. I would go onto the Amazon site and leave a review in which I told them exactly what I thought of their delivery service. People read those reviews; no one ever finds out the results of those surveys.

    I had to laugh, though, at the oversized box. At work, I ordered some supplies, one of which was a 12″ wooden ruler. The ruler came in a box all by itself, and the box was as big as the one your camera came in. Talk about killing trees!

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    1. Actually, the camera came in a box three times bigger than that. I had already cut it up by then, but it was big enough to put a small human corpse in. The problem with leaving a review about delivery is there’s no way to leave them without complaining about the product. There was nothing wrong with the product, but there was everything wrong with the delivery. This is not the first, second, third, fifth, or 12th screw up by these same people either. They simply can’t get it right. I think Amazon hires different people each delivery, so the drivers don’t know the area and can’t find anything.

      It’s really NOT hard to find things in the valley. There aren’t a lot of roads … at least not major roads. There are tons of tiny little roads through the woods and swamps, but NOBODY drives on them. Too dangerous. On foot, you’re safe enough, but with swamp and quick-mud on both sides of the “road,” you miss your turn and you are REALLY stuck. Try explaining how to AAA how to find you in the middle of the wetlands. What in the world possessed her to take that route? Didn’t she notice when she was driving through Misty Meadows golf course that she was probably not where she was supposed to be? Can’t they look at a map without a GPS?

      It’s hopeless. This happens every time this “group” delivers. Every. Single. Time. They are probably competent in a city or suburb where everything is numbered and lit, but out here? Lost, oh lost.

      Like

      1. Hm. I have some people I’d love to send to “visit” you, using the wrong route so they could get lost and I wouldn’t ever have to deal with them again (and you wouldn’t, either, because they’d get lost before they ever got to you).

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