Nothing to do with policing but very seasonal. I now have positive proof that the Post Office is completely useless. (For the purposes of anonymity, I’ll use random locations.)
Last week we received a Christmas card in the post, nothing unusual in that except that it wasn’t addressed to us. We are used to the occasional mix up with the wrong post because we live in an area which has several variations of the road name, for instance, Brown Road, Brown Avenue & Brown Grove. As they are in the same area the postcodes are similar, although not the same, obviously.
Anyway, when I read the address I noticed that it should have gone to Brown Road & not Brown Grove.
But that wasn’t all. The town was different. If we lived in Bristol, then an equivalently distanced town to which this card was addressed was Brighton, i.e quite some distance away and only the first 3 letters of the towns were similar.
And that wasn’t all, the postcode written on the envelope was clearly a postcode not even in the same county, let alone region. As far as I could tell, the letter was addressed correctly to someone in Brighton but arrived at my house in Bristol. The writing on the envelope was clearly legible. It appeared that someone in a sorting office somewhere had seen this card & thrown it over his shoulder into whatever sorting bin was behind him at the time. I have no idea how modern Post Office Communications technology works but I’m guessing that at some stage, maybe even several stages, someone actually looks at the address on the item. Perhaps nobody can read these days, I know educashun’s not what it used to be, and all that. Perhaps everyone at the Post Office is pissed at this time of year, or maybe there’s some human right which says the ability to read should not be a bar to a job in a sorting office.
Being the helpful soul I am, I wrote on the front of the envelope in large red pen “BRIGHTON NOT BRISTOL” and popped it into the nearest post box safe in the knowledge that someone in Brighton would soon be receiving their misdirected card, hopefully in the same millennium. I thought no more about it.
When the self same bloody Christmas card popped through my door again.Ã‚Â I thought I was in Groundhog Day when I saw it looking defiantly up at me from my doormat. I have no idea where it had been, probably the other side of Vanuatu & back.
The icing on the cake is the current franks they are putting on the post. In large black text clearly at the top of every delivered item is a reminder to check the postcode – if only someone would tell the Post Office.