I called Olympus Australia to express my grief over my beloved camera’s faulty focussing system. Kelly on the phone promised to have a courier pick up my camera from work and send it to Sydney for an extreme makeover. Olympus would pay for everything.
I put my camera in a brown paper package and tied it up with string. Then I slapped on a letter of complaint at the front.
My work phone rang at about 3 PM. It was Carmen from Level 7.
“Joan? Do you have a package? There’s a courier here for you.”
“Yes but I told them I’d leave it at the Concierge Desk on the Ground Floor.”
“Right. I’ll send him down.”
Five minutes later, another phone call.
“Joan, this is Melissa from Concierge. The courier refuses to take your package. He wants it boxed. And there’s no address on it.”
My mind went blank. Wasn’t Olympus meant to organise everything? Where was I going to get the box from? Why doesn’t he know the address?
“Um. I’ll get the address and come down.”
(heard in the background) “She’s coming down now…”
I grabbed my warranty card. I found a random box by the lift. I waited two minutes for the elevator to arrive on my floor. I power-walked to the Concierge desk.
Melissa and Carmen were waiting.
“He was so rude!” Melissa exclaimed.
“He could have waited,” Carmen fumed. “He said ‘I don’t have time for this,’ and left this card for you to call back.”
I was speechless. I took the card and stared mournfully at my lonely package.
“Why didn’t you get us to help you with the courier?” Carmen asked. Carmen is one of my company’s support staff. She looks after packages and couriering.
“It’s a private package,” I explained, “Not work related.”
“That’s okay. We do private packages all the time.”
“Oh no, I didn’t want to abuse…”
“Don’t worry about it! We’re here to help,” she informed me. “Give me all the details.”
Silently, I handed over my warranty card and nudged my brown paper package towards her.
She took me back to Level 7. I sat there as she efficiently bubble-wrapped my fragile camera and taped it up in a box. She rang Olympus and abused them. Having obtained their courier account number, Carmen phoned the courier to reschedule the pickup. Then she abused them too, just for good measure.
“There you go, honey. It’s all organised. They’ll come pick it up tomorrow.”
“I’m embarrassed,” I said humbly. “Thank you for doing all this for me.”
“Tut tut, don’t worry about it. Remember, we’re here to help.”