My family loved our mail. We really did.
In fact we loved it so much that we arranged a mail redirection with Australia Post when we moved overseas. We obediently completed the somewhat dated-in-appearance form at the Lyneham Mixed Business and the placed our hands on hearts to swear that we understood it would take three working days from that day itself for our mail redirection to be ‘live’. The nice lady who was simultaneously growing out a perm, running a laundromat and selling postage stamps seemed to be really stuck on the three day thing.
Yes, we understood. We paid. We signed. We moved overseas.
Days became weeks and still not a single letter had come to our new address. At about the two month mark I called the Australia Post ‘Customer Service’ line in Australia (from Papua New Guinea). At a cost to me of approximately one dollar a minute, I was able to listen about 22 minutes of advertorials and high pitched music before a helpful young man came on the line.
I explained my situation, recited the relevant numbers, paid at least another 10 dollars to listen to more advertorial while he put me on hold, to be given the following advice:
“Your mail redirection is active.”
But … I have no mail.
“As I said, our computer says it is active.”
But … my actual mailbox says otherwise as it is empty.
“ White noise …. annoying standard lines from annoying youth working in customer service job ….”
Hang up.
At the three-month mark I called again. This time I had Skype, so the cost was not as bothersome and I could walk around and yell at Australia Post from a distance if I felt like it, or simply put them on mute.
This time a lady, clearly new to the job. Desperate to help. Not very sharp. My confidence boosted by detecting her willingness to crack this case wide open. Together we could do this! We were like Thelma and Louise (as long as I could be Louise).
Recite same story from start to finish, conclude with Customer Reference Number. Thelma (let’s just say) asked if she could put me on hold. No problem! I’ll sit here for hours if that’s what it takes! You go girlfriend!
Back on the line. I sensed trepidation in her voice. Bad news.
“Louise (let’s just say), I’m sorry but there has been some problem that I can’t quite detect with your redirection but all I know is that it has not been redirected … a little bit of white noise … something about the yellow redirection stickers on envelopes (WTF????) …. The Mitchell Redirection Centre (yes, I know it is a building but what does this have to do with my mail?) …. But it’s all okay now … the stickers are back on.”
I knew it! The stickers! It’s always the stickers, isn’t it?
We weren’t quite on our road trip to freedom yet.
So I feigned understanding … yeah it happens sometimes, doesn’t it? …. And asked Thelma if she could explain what happened to the last three month’s worth of mail for my family.
Silence. Wringing of the hands over the keyboard. Looking up for supervisor but saw them helping someone else in the call centre. That moment … she decided to take it alone.
“All I can say is that …. white noise …. yellow stickers … it’s all going to be ok now.”
It would be my first loss with Australia Post.
For the next nine months, the envelopes and promotional materials found their way into our new home, displaying their little yellow redirection stickers proudly, the true survivors. My Budget Eyewear envelopes always seemed amongst the smuggest, as surprised as I that they scored a free trip overseas based on a single eye test I underwent long ago.
Before we could say “We want to renew the relationship! We love this so much!” a letter arrived asking us if we wanted to extend our redirection. Australia Post was all over this thing.
Helpfully, we received the letter on a date that gave us one further business day to complete necessary actions to secure the extension. With a deep sigh and a few minor flashbacks I fired up Skype and dove headfirst into the Monday morning queue on the Australia Post 13 … whatever line.
A lady. Way too confident. Talked too much.
“Yes, it’s easy, you just have to go into any Post Office [But …] and pay there .. [um … ] you have until tomorrow.”
I live in Papua New Guinea. Not going to happen.
Silence. The penny drops. Hold.
The wait wasn’t long. I sensed a definite pride in the voice, the solution had been found and the solution was as simple as ….. following her easy ten steps to get someone in Australia to do it for me. Today. Dutifully, I took a pen and jotted down the instructions she excitedly blurted out before she promptly began wrapping up the call. I asked her to confirm this would actually work.
“Thanks for calling!”
Hang up.
Cut to a busy Post Office working the lunch hour shift in the Brisbane CBD. My brother is in line with the ten-step plan in his hand that I had typed out that morning. Unsurprisingly when his time came, things did not go according to plan.
Impossible!
In no time he had been swept up by the lunacy of Australia Post, and found himself filling out that silly application form once more, laying down some cash, watching it all get processed and then being told that it simply could not be processed. All he had done was follow their advice. Almost as soon as the money had been paid, it was refunded. The point of all of this?
The point was slowly dawning on me.
The Man of Our House. Hadn’t quite got around to changing his details with the banks, all quite simple really. Just not done yet. Thought we better get another 12 months on the redirection.
After debriefing with my brother with thanks and clear instructions to abandon mission I took pause to determine whether I was annoyed enough to dial 13 … whatever one last time.
I dialled.
This time a guy. Too enthusiastic to recite procedure. Not that sharp, but not very nice either. Bad combination.
I explained, including the Brisbane CBD mess. After taking a moment to take it all in, he asked me if I knew which post office. Um, no. Did it make a difference?
“Is your brother over 18, I mean is he an ADULT?”
Sigh. Yes. Whhhyyy did I call?
“You see what went wrong here is that he needed to take YOUR ID not HIS ID. Do you understand the importance of being able to identify YOU to extend YOUR mail redirection?”
Hmmm. Yes. I understand what ID is. My concern is that your version of the correct procedure to extend mail redirection in absentia is now the third version I have heard in as many hours from Australia Post staff. How can I be sure that going through this inconvenience again is going to warrant the outcome I so desire?
“Yes, you need YOUR ID.”
What I am not hearing here is the sound of someone saying “We are happy to take your payment by credit card over the phone today.” Or; “Please, pay online, use B-Pay … Australia Post acknowledges that the internet is here and it is here to help.” Are any of these options viable?
“I am not authorised to ………. white noise …………..”
Okay, how about I send the form by post, obviously a preferred method for the national postage carrier, and on the basis of this call today you arrange an extension for the deadline for payment. That seems to be the best arrangement from what I understand you are saying.
The sound of brain malfunction.
A request to put me on hold.
I sit there, listening to the sounds of happy Australians opening happy mail with the authoritative yet caring voice over and I make a decision.
We will let the mail go. The final sacrifice.
I hang up, leaving no trace but for the sounds of an abandoned phone line, making way for the next person in the queue.
Postscript:
All mailing details with current bank accounts have now been changed.
We hope that one day Australia Post learns about B-Pay and Pay-Pal, but for now we don’t mind if our mail is franked with red wax and delivered by gloved hand after being transported across the country on steam trains.
