Nov 21, 2020: Really?

Our shopping delivery was in a much later slot this week because I booked it far later than I should have done. We were in the 4pm slot which, especially on a Saturday, might as well be called the “shit out of luck” slot or “sorry, you thought you could have what?”

Hopefully, though, going forward things should be better as I have booked earlier slots for the next couple of weeks and, more importantly, all the racists have fucked off which leaves a lot more slots open for booking.

Anyway, it came and there were several items which we had to send back. I told the delivery man this, and he made a face, sighed and then said something about not having a working machine and having to do everything by writing it down.

Words and actions that fill a person with confidence, I can tell you.

And, to his credit, he did write things down. Not the correct things. But some things. We have a partial refund for the stuff we sent back. I need to get in contact with Sainsbo’s to sort out the rest. I shall, I think to myself, email them.



You cannot do that. Not anymore.

It’s either the lockdown complainers or the racists, but Sainsbury’s no longer takes customer service queries by email. Instead I have to use one of the methods suggested by the site – Facebook (ugh), Twitter (not designed in any way to make complaints/customer service requests given the character limit), by phone (but the website already tells you you’ve got more or less no chance) or a Sign Language video.

For frick’s sake.

Not everyone has Twitter or Facebook, not everyone has the time to spend on the phone, and even if I knew enough sign language (I know a few letters (if I think about it long enough) in BSL and maybe the word for apple in American Sign Language) I should think someone using the sign language video method who shouldn’t be would be frowned upon.

It’s a bit of a clusterfuck, really. It’s kind of not good enough. But to tell them that, I need to go down one of these avenues. All I want is the rest of my refund. Part of me thinks I can’t be arsed, but part of me thinks it’s not really good enough to send someone out without a working machine that is an integral part of your ability to do the job.

It’s not for that much money, but it’s the principal of the thing.

So I’m going to have Facebook message them on Monday. And hope that it’s quick and painless because I don’t want to spend half the day waiting for someone in a centre to respond.

That, after all, is what the fricking email was for…