How important is my call, really?

There is no greater tool to distort the passing of time, than to be placed on hold by a call centre. The music is too tinny to be upbeat and even though the voice over is smiley and warm, it leads to thoughts of homicide. I made the tempting mistake of thinking I could make a "quick" call. As the minutes passed, it became an operatic melodrama.

I did the tracking on the website first. I expected to see something more recent than a visit to a western Sydney suburb three days ago. Was my package still there? Was it somewhere else? The website couldn't tell me.

I rang the number. To get to speak to someone, I first had to go through the same tracking process on the phone. I ended up in the same place, but this time, when I reached the end, I was able to say the word "consultant" so I could be placed on hold.

Well I was on hold for 20 minutes. That tinny music blared, only to be interrupted by overly cheerful announcements telling me I could get the answer from the website! I was at work and filed emails while I waited. That was the most useful part of the experience.

After 20 minutes a woman answered. I told her the story. She told me my parcel was in that western Sydney suburb. I asked her what it was still doing there. She suddenly noticed that it arrived there three days ago. She said it was probably on a truck and might still be delivered. I could tell she was faking. I asked her how she knew it was on a truck. She confessed that she didn't know; she was hoping. I pressed the point. She sighed. She asked me to confirm my business account details. I asked her what she meant. She told me the name of the workplace I was in. (The phones are jolly clever these days! We're all being watched, apparently.) She sighed, saying that she would need to put my personal details in. I provided them. This yielded nothing. She told me I was in the wrong section. I told her I said the word "consultant" when asked and here I was. She sighed again. She would have to put me through to another section. She couldn't do anything. I reminded her how long I had been on hold and that I wasn't really looking forward to another age of tinny music and falsely optimistic announcements from the voice over girl.

She was gone. I was on hold. The minutes ticked by. Slower than if I had been doing something enjoyable. My email in box was looking really good. I was scared I would run out of emails to file. It's amazing how much filing you can do in 30 minutes.

Neil said hello. I said hello. Another man said hello.

The line was crossed. The other man had been on hold for ages. Neil was confused. I was running out of emails to file. Neil concluded that we had a crossed line. He sensibly declared that he could only talk to one of us at a time. My details were the ones he had on the computer screen in front of him. YES! He would need to transfer Jamal.

With Jamal banished, Neil asked me how he could help. I was about to answer, but another man chimed in. I soon learned that his name was Eric. Neil explained that we had a crossed line and again demonstrated how clever he was. Eric disappeared. We started again. This time Brittany was also in the conversation. I started to laugh maniacally.

Neil concluded that this was a problem and said that we would both have to hang up. I was now 45 minutes into the phone call and hadn't resolved the issue. I wasn't giving up without a fight. I told Neil that someone would need to call me back. He promised they would; then said if they didn't I'd need to call back. I said it was unacceptable that there might be a possibility I would have to call back. I commented on how patient and good humoured I'd been so far.

Forty-five minutes later, my phone had not rung.

I called again. I went through the tracking process on the phone. I said "consultant". I went on hold.

By the time the call was answered by a person, I had run my errands in town, bought groceries and was on the train home, barrelling towards the inner west black spot where all phone calls drop out. North Melbourne is apparently in the wilderness of Melbourne.

I explained the black spot problem to Sue and asked if she would call me back if the call dropped out. She told me that wasn't possible. I got off the train. I stood on the platform as Sue clicked away on her keyboard and sighed and gave me no new information. Sue told me she really didn't know where the parcel was. She told me I couldn't complain until three business days after the EDD. That's the estimated delivery date. The EDD was the very day that I was filing my emails, having brief encounters with men called Neil and Jamal and Eric.

I asked how I make a complaint.

Sue told me I just needed to call. There was no hint of irony either.

This morning I woke up to an email from the recipient of the parcel to say it had arrived. I could have just asked, but had not wanted to spoil the surprise.

Happy Mother's Day Mum! Thanks for being my proofreader (after publication).

What your letterbox reveals about politics.

My letterbox at home is not where I receive my mail.  For that I have a post office box.  I do have a "no junk mail" sticker on there, but was unsurprised to open the letterbox this afternoon and find various pieces of political propaganda, election related information, an ad for some local cleaners and an invitation to join a gym.

Of the political propaganda one comes from Family First (a how to vote card with no policy information), one from Palmer United Party (a one page 7 point policy statement) and one from the Liberal party.  This one is interesting because it does not mention the Liberal party at all.  It's a slag off against Labor.  The only way I know it's from the Liberal party is that it is authorised by "D. Mantach".  I had to google that to discover that he's Liberal party director.  Sneaky.

So based on the information I've received, PUP is by far, the most helpful.  But I won't be voting for a big kid who has lots of money and makes no sense.  And the negativity of the Liberal campaign is very unappealing.  Maybe that's why they didn't overtly put their name to it.

Family First's how to vote instruction is scant on detail.  I've gone hunting to find how they are preferencing in the Senate election.  This is really hard to do.  For any party.  People who receive postal votes have told me that the Senate's ballot paper is as long as the kitchen table.  I don't like voting above the line without understanding the way the parties have organised their preferences, but the thought of voting below the line fills me with trepidation.

The real information is from the Australian Electoral Commission giving information about voting requirements.  It's easy to identify the real stuff from the guff because the real stuff is wrapped in plastic.  They explain how to complete the ballot paper.  You can even practise voting on their website.

A quick visit to the AEC website reveals the list of registered political parties.  Well that's an eye opener.  There's a party for everything it seems.  How about the Stop CSG Party, the Pirate Party, the Smoker's Rights Party (their website is all about asking for money...maybe they could donate the price of a pack of ciggies)?  The best name must go to the Coke in the Bubblers party.  They have a nice looking website, some appealing headline positions, but no substance.  According to their website, they're still looking for candidates!  Um, someone should tell them the election is on Saturday.

It must be tricky if you're undecided, but I think undecided voters are generally also the politically disengaged.  I've completed the Vote Compass and received the same result as last time.  It's an interesting exercise in thinking about the various policy issues and how you stack up when compared to the various policies of the major parties.  Why not head over and see what you discover?

There's a referendum on with this election too.  It's about whether local government should be recognised in the constitution.  I've received nothing about this and don't really know why it's a good or a bad idea.  If I can't find out something easily before Saturday, I'll be conservative and stick with the status quo.

The Greens and the Australia Labor Party are absent from my letterbox.   I live in a safe Labor seat, but that's no reason to ignore me.  Or maybe they are the only parties to respect my request for "no junk mail".

I'm off to fall asleep in front of a political interview now.

Ten questions for today.

1) Is advertising on hand dryers in public toilets effective?

2) Who ever uses a full bottle of nail polish?

3) Why does it rain whenever I have my hair blow waved?

4) Why can't people follow the instructions for recycling?

5) What is unclear about a sign that says "No Junk Mail"?

6) Why do people insist that you "need some sugar" when you tell them you don't eat sugar?

7) Why do businesses refuse to deliver to post office boxes?

8) Where do those text messages telling you you've won "a million pounds" come from?

9) Why, in the digital age, does it still take 3 business days for a cheque to clear?

10) What do visitors to Melbourne think when they can't top up their myki and they discover there are no toilets available at the station?

Answers to these questions are welcome.
What questions are you asking today?

Queuing at the post office

Yesterday I went on my pilgrimage to collect my mail from my post office box.  I've had the same box since I moved to Melbourne almost thirteen years ago.  The staff know me and I know the staff.  If there's time, we often stop to have a chat.  

There was a card for a registered letter in my box so I needed to go to the window and sign for it.  There were about four people in the queue ahead of me.  Jessica, the manager, was cheerfully and efficiently serving - gathering signatures, checking identification and handing over parcels and letters.

I was two people from the front when the man at the front was asked what he was expecting as Jessica tried to find the parcel.  He said he had no idea.  A few minutes later Jessica appeared with an enormous box on a trolley.  

"Are you sure that's for me?" he asked.  "Who could it be from?"

"Santa!" I piped up from the back.  He thought that was hilarious as did Jessica.  The person standing behind him and in front of me in the queue was strangely silent and clearly thought I was weird.  

"Is it from Europe?" he asked as he tried to interpret the labels.

The paperwork was signed, the identification checked and the parcel was his.  He picked it up and felt its heft.  He shook it a little bit and listened.  

He looked around at his audience.

"Should I open it now? I should open it, shouldn't I!"  

I love a bit of public spectacle, but I thought it could easily end in tears.  Personally, I never publicly open a parcel that's arrived in the mail unless I know exactly what it is.  The potential for deep embarrassment is large.

"Yes!  Go on!  Open it!" I urged.

He thought better of it and left with his mysterious package.

Jessica greeted me by name as she always does and told me she was feeling jealous with all the people receiving parcels.

"I never get any presents working here," she said with a sparkle in her eye as she went to retrieve my letter.

I pulled out one of my gratitude cards and when she returned, I gave it to her and thanked her for her cheerful service throughout the year.  She was thrilled.  I told her about the project and she thought it was great.  She sincerely thanked me.  

I asked her about her Christmas plans and she said they have a big one every second year (some of her family is overseas).  This year was to be a small one and they were thinking about lovely things to do or give to each other that wouldn't cost a lot of money.  This year's plan was to write a letter to a member of the family which they would then read to each other over Christmas lunch.  The letter would speak about all the wonderful things about the person and their relationship.  I thought that was a brilliant idea.  

After thinking about it for a while, my wicked humour kicked in and I thought of all the ways it could go hilariously wrong and end in chaos.  I hope it doesn't for Jessica's family.

Thanks to all the Australia Post staff who make sure I receive my mail and wish me happy birthday and merry Christmas as they see the parcels come through.  And it's great to know that Santa uses Australia Post as his preferred delivery partner.

Q & A - this time it's me answering the questions.

Today's post is actually on another site.  I've been interviewed by the Maura Fay Group and you can read the result over on their blog.  (While you're there, why not have a look around?)

One of the things I do in my life is provide my services as a Senior Facilitator to the Maura Fay Group.  As a result I get to work with lots of interesting clients and have some wonderful conversations with people doing interesting work in all kinds of situations.

Today I was with Australia Post, having leadership conversations with the people who make sure we get our mail!  Here's what I could see through the window of the room we were in:

(c) divacultura 2012

As I drove home, I noticed a few posties returning on their bikes and many delivery vans.  I can't wait to pick up my latest yarn delivery and now I know some of the people who make sure it will arrive.