When Country Roads Aren’t Relaxing

I work for a high street catalogue chain delivering goods that people have bought online.

It is the end of a long shift, and I am about forty-five minutes away from base in a speed-restricted van.

I set the last customer’s postcode into my GPS to locate the home and end up down a dusty farm track. I call the customer on the only number they have given me — a landline — asking for a call back when they don’t answer. I use my phone as a second GPS, which takes me to the main road; this takes me about ten miles out of my way. When I get off the main road, I call the customer again. Still no answer.

I head back down the side roads to the village they live in, in the hope I can find the road. I am in luck; I find the street, but the house has a name, not a number, so rather than find a number, I have to look at each home for a building name. No joy, so I call the customer, who does not answer.

I start door-knocking. This is about 9:30 on an evening so I understand why people are annoyed at being disturbed by me. When I find the property, the owner opens the door with a smile and his first words are:

Owner: “I saw you were trying to call our house, but we don’t have a house phone; we use mobiles. Why didn’t you call them?”