For weeks, I’ve been doing a collection at a fairly secure site where the truck is filled with new credit cards, and then I take them to the distribution centre to be scanned and split to the country/area they are going to. It isn’t unusual for me to be driving 100,000 of them. I’m tracked all the way by everybody.

Today, they decided that I have to scan everything onto the system with my courier handset so it is logged at collection. That’s a glorified smartphone with a barcode scanner. So, no loading the boxes full of individually addressed envelopes. 

Each one is scanned.

I am instructed to scan each one to the correct client. Pretty sure a computer can read barcodes and do a lookup but I can’t. I have to go by the destination sheets and then double-check everything because the sender doesn’t care.

Five hours later, after scanning 8500 envelopes containing credit cards, I drop them off at the depot, who rescans them by chucking them on the belt with the fancy cameras that can read a barcode at 40 feet and assign everything properly.

I say to my manager, “So, I wasted all that time?”

He says, “No, now we know how long it takes to do it properly. Just stick the first account number on all of them next time, since the belt does the rest.”

I worked one winter as a seasonal driver’s helper for a popular shipping company on a combined business/residential route. Most of the time the customers were happy to see us.

A small personal care and beauty products store received shipments at least once a week. The owner and sole employee was known to be highly eccentric but I didn’t realize just how bad it was until I worked for the shipping company. We always parked around the corner from the shop and scanned the items as delivered before exiting the truck. All packages were left on the sidewalk outside the door, and said sidewalk was almost always littered with soggy cardboard bits.

The regular route driver explained that the owner wouldn’t accept packages delivered from a foreign-built vehicle — the truck he drove was an import brand — or that he knew had been scanned with “the evil contraption.” He washed the packages open before taking the product into his shop, spraying the cardboard boxes with a high-pressure hose nozzle until they fell apart, because they may have been handled by “those people.”

My high-school-age daughter was a volunteer page at the adjacent public library and the shared wall was always wet and moldy. They discovered that he was not only washing product on the sidewalk, but also regularly hosing down the product as it sat on the shelves to wash away any lingering contamination.

That shop has closed — I believe evicted due to damage — the library has moved to a new, larger location, and a different business is now occupying an area of the shopping center that includes both storefronts. They said they had to totally strip, seal, and rebuild the interior where that shop was located due to water damage, mold, and mildew and even now, several years later, an occasional customer will comment about a musty smell.

(I’m working in customer service, answering phones and emails.)

Me:“[Company], [My Name] speaking. How may I help you?”

Customer: “I just wanted to check if my parcels were already delivered and could be picked up.”

Me: “Sure thing! Let me just check.” *he tells me his account data and I pull up his account* “It looks like there is one parcel from Amazon ready to be picked up. It was just delivered this morning.”

Customer: “Only one? I’m expecting two parcels.”

Me: “Sadly, yes. Could you tell me the second parcels tracking number so I can check the online tracking?”

Customer: “I did not get one.”

Me: “In that case, you could contact the sender and ask for it. They should be able to tell you.”

Customer: “It’s Amazon, as well. I only got the tracking number for the parcel that was delivered today. The second one is a gift.”

Me: “That’s strange. You should still get a tracking number if you have Amazon send it as a gift.”

Customer: “No. I ordered the parcel you received today and checked ‘gift.’ So, Amazon will send me a gift!”

(I had to explain to him that no, checking “gift” did not prompt Amazon to send you something for free and yes, I was sure about that. He seemed rather crestfallen and when I told my colleague about it she laughed and suggested trying it, as well.)

My dad owns two properties right next door to each other: one which we live in, and one which he rents out to my great uncle, who is deaf and communicates via sign language. For the sake of simplicity, they’ll be referred to as 121 and 127, respectively. 121 has a long, winding driveway while 127 has a straight driveway. The driveway on 127 is located just enough between the two houses that it could be interpreted as a shared driveway. This is compounded by the fact that, for some reason, the mailboxes for 121 and 127 are both located on 127’s driveway. This has resulted in many deliveries intended for 121 instead being delivered to 127. It’s not much of an issue until the delivery day of a particularly important package.

The driver delivering this package is by far the biggest offender in mixing up addresses. Today is no exception; he attempts to deliver the package to 127 instead of 121 while I’m at work. I return home to find no package. Upon checking the tracking, I notice that the package’s status is listed as “could not be delivered.” I ask my sister if anyone came, but she tells me that nobody did, so I go over to my great uncle. He tells me that someone tried to deliver the package to 127. He tried to tell them that it had to go to 121, but apparently, the driver did not understand sign language, so he put the package back in the van and left.

Annoyed, I call the company and explain the situation to the rep on the other end. They tell me that the driver claimed the package was refused and that it was actually getting ready to go back! I tell them to try delivering it again and they agree. I go into painstaking detail about which house it needs to be delivered to, and that the driveway for 121 is winding, not straight. The representative tells me that they will inform the driver about the details.

I have the following day off, so I stay home to make sure it will be delivered to the correct house. I also ask my great uncle to accept my package and hold it for me in case the company tries to deliver it to him again. Incredibly, even with the specific instructions, they once again attempt to deliver it to 127! After collecting the package from my great uncle, I call the delivery company again and file a complaint against the driver. They tell me that they will put notes for all future deliveries to 121 that the driveway is not shared.

Unfortunately, that specific driver wasn’t fired, and he still insists on delivering packages addressed as 121 to 127 to this very day. I’ve tried everything: having notes added to packages, putting very clear numbers on each house’s respective driveways, and even getting permission from the post office to put 121’s mailbox on 121’s driveway. None of it has gotten through to that specific driver. At this point, it’s honestly a miracle that he’s still working for the delivery company.

(I’m at work, on the phone with a courier to determine the status of an international shipment.)

Me: “I’m calling about the status of a shipment.”

Courier: “Okay… okay… Tracking number?”

Me: *provides number*

Courier: “Okay… okay… okay… International shipment.”

Me: “Yes.” *thinking to myself that I called the international support number*

Courier: “Okay… okay… okay… It’s getting there by air… on a plane.”

Me: “That would be correct.”

(He kept saying, “Okay,” over and over again for another minute or two. At that point, I couldn’t take it anymore and just told him to forget it. I waited a minute, called back, and got someone who didn’t have to tell me that my air freight shipment is getting there by airplane.)