I've often joked that, in London, customer service is an oxymoron.
From sullen shop girls to surly waiters to just plain rude delivery people, service quite often falls below what is the American minimal acceptable standard.
(There is also quite wonderful service as well - the employees at the Starbucks across the street from work are consistently cheerful, friendly, fast and serve a mean cup of latte. Which makes up for the Starbucks next to my flat, where the coffee is cold and the baristas colder.)
However, nothing beats our recent experience trying to receive packages posted from America.
When we returned from Los Angeles, we had two package notices in our mail from a company called Parcel Force. One package had been left with the deli downstairs, and we retrieved it with no problem. However, the other package was "returned to our depot. Please call within five days." Lucky for us, it was the fifth day and so we called right away.
No worries, said Parcel Force. We'll deliver the package to your local post office tomorrow.
Great! we said.
So that afternoon, my husband went to the post office. No, no package for you, said the post office.
Gee, that's strange, my husband replied. He went home and called Parcel Force.
No worries mate, said Parcel Force. It's on our truck now. You should be able to pick it up tomorrow morning.
So when morning dawned, my husband, getting wise to their ways, called the post office first before making the trek.
No, no package for you, said the post office. And aren't you the bloke what came by yesterday?
Yes I am, replied my husband. And I was told the package was on the truck yesterday afternoon. You should have received it.
Sorry, mate. No package for you, said the post office.
So my husband called Parcel Force.
Oh right! said Parcel Force, after some shuffling of papers and transferring of lines. Says here that the post office refused delivery. So it's being returned to sender. It's already on its way.
At this point I removed all the sharp objects in the house, both for my husband's and my health.
At least this package made it to the UK. None of us have any clue where the Christmas package from my brother and sister-in-law ended up. It wasn't returned to them, and we have seen neither brown paper nor string.
And it could be worse. There's a chance this package will actually make it back to the sender. A package sent to me in the transatlantic pouch from my office in Los Angeles has been traced all the way to the post room in my building, only for the supervisor to tell me they have zero record of it ever arriving. This is despite the courier company providing a record of who in the post room signed for it and a time-stamped receipt.
Not to mention that many of my magazine subscriptions have gone missing. I rather expect it for the magazines mailed from the US, but the UK Vanity Fair? Now I know why magazine subscriptions here cost an arm and a leg compared to subscriptions in the US - it's because they have to keep replacing all the copies that go missing in transit.
The government has deregulated the Royal Mail and now private operators can pick-up, sort and deliver the post. I'm afraid, I'm very afraid. Of course, competition could lead to improved service. But I'm not putting my pence on it.
So, until we say different, please don't try to send us anything through the mail. We appreciate the thought, but donate to charity instead, or save it until we see you in person.
And US Postal Service? I hereby take back anything remotely mean I ever said or thought about you. You so rock in comparison.
2006-01-14
Why Can't I Live in Two Places at Once?
We just returned from a ten day trip back to Los Angeles.
The trip was about as spur of the moment as a transatlantic trip can be: we made our plans on December 4, the day after the UCLA-USC football game.
I'm a USC alumna, and my husband has some pretty hardcore Trojan supporters in his family so he was an easy convert.
It sounded like the perfect excuse for a trip back to Los Angeles: The USC football team would be going for their third national championship title (sorry, any LSU lovers/USC haters out there, but the AP title counts. It has for over 50 years. So sit down and shut up. Thank you.) And they'd be playing practically at home, in the Rose Bowl. The last USC game we were able to attend was the 2004 Rose Bowl, a win over Michigan - it was time to see another one. The days in London are short and dreary, some Southland sun would do us good. And hey, we'd get to celebrate for surely Pete Carroll and co. would triumph. After all, they had for the last 34 games.
It will come as no surprise that the trip didn't go as planned.
It started with Virgin changing our seats from a window/aisle twosome at the front of the economy cabin to two seats in the middle at the rear of the plane, even though we checked into our preferred seats via the internet the day before the flight. Apparently, there had been a change of aircraft and our original seats no longer existed on this plane. A minor thing, but enough to start the trip off on a sour note.
The sun was also lacking, at least when we arrived. It was the first time in 52 years that it rained during the Rose Parade. In fact, it rained so hard that the floats were barely visible on television (we thought about going, but the weather put a quick kibosh on that). The viewing stands started out full, but as the parade went on more and more white bleacher space was revealed. And if the precipitation weren't omen enough that this would not be a Tournament of Roses to remember, KTLA's demotion of Stephanie Edwards from parade co-host to lowly sidelines commentator was. Stephanie and Bob Eubanks are a tradition, damn you KTLA! Just as much of a tradition as USC winning the Rose Bowl. Oops...
We didn't have tickets to the game. No problem, we thought. Yes, it's a national championship game and there's a lot of hype and endzone tickets are going for over $1200 each on EBay the day before the game, but c'mon. There's bound to be some scalpers at the game who'll eventually panic and sell the tickets for less.
Not.
We arrived at the Rose Bowl around noon, for a 5:15 p.m. kick-off, and got onsite parking immediately. See! This will be easy!
My, how naive we were. We should have grabbed a clue when we saw it was parking stacked ten deep and eight across, and we were surrounded by cars carrying people in ugly burnt orange. (Oh, c'mon. It IS an ugly color. It's so ugly, Crayola doesn't have it even in the big box.)
It turned out that not a small number of people, from both schools, had the same idea as we did re: tickets. There were far more buyers than sellers. The two pairs of tickets we were offered were $1400 each and $2000 each. We wanted to see the game, but we also wanted to keep a semblance of sanity. We walked around the Rose Bowl twice, stopping to refresh ourselves at my in-laws' RV, before resigning ourselves to watching the game on one of the bigscreen TVs set up by various tailgaters for the members of their party who couldn't get tickets (they even had satellite dishes linked up to the TVs so as to get the best signal).
But as we were walking back to the car to put away our tailgate gear, a guy saw us asking for tickets and told us he had singles to sell for $600 a piece. "Oh," we said. "It's a little steep but we'll pay it." Inside we were jumping up and down and screaming with excitement. We ended up with a pair after all - but in the Texas section.
Now, a disclaimer. I lived in Texas for five years, near Dallas. I know a lot of very nice, very intelligent, very cultured Texans. I know they are the norm rather than the exception.
And I could handle losing to Michigan. Or Penn State. Or Ohio State. In fact, a Rose Bowl vs. a Big 10 team? That's the way the world is supposed to work. Or even Notre Dame. Losing to Notre Dame is honorable. They're a highly respected rival. But the University of Texas? Crybaby Mack Brown who whined his way into a BCS game last year and "gangsta" Vince Young (hey, his words, not mine)? Losing to a team whose quarterback is such a poor excuse for a sportsman, he couldn't even shake Reggie Bush's hand when Reggie won the Heisman?
Oh, that HURTS.
Texas fans in person are some of the nicest people I've met. We were treated very decently, sitting in their section. But Texas fans online are obnoxious, moronic, and classless. Seriously, just stay away from sports message boards. I've learned my lesson the hard way.
I'm proud of the Trojan football team. It was a good game. If it had been one minute shorter or one minute longer, USC would have won. It was that close. Both teams played very well on offense, and both teams' defenses didn't show up at key moments. USC made one more mistake than Texas, and that was their downfall. If Reggie Bush hadn't tried to showboat and throw a lateral, the final score would be much, much different.
But, oh! Do I despise a certain segment of the online Longhorn fan population. Hatesss them I do, precious.
To get my mind off the game - and to return to my normal, sweet, humankind loving self (honest. I am usually a very nice person. Even to neo-cons, who after all make up 80% of my family) - I went shopping. Nothing like a little retail therapy to lift the soul. And there were many retail therapists to visit, from Target (I miss Target most of all, I think) to Anthropologie to Bloomingdale's.
Which brings me to the burning question: Why can't I live in two places at once?
I mean, I love London. I do. We're having a great life here. There's travel and theater and history and new things to learn and do and see. Sometimes I have to pinch myself, to make sure I take a minute and appreciate all that I have, the opportunity I've been given.
But then we visit Los Angeles. A place where I lived for twenty years and my husband lived his entire life. We have family there. Friends. Roots.
Life in Los Angeles is...easy, for lack of a better word. The weather is generally amazing, give or take a few winter downpours and a few sweltering summer days. So it's easy to get out, to get around. No need to struggle with umbrellas or mittens or muddy boots. And no need for an extensive wardrobe (unless you want one) - your spring clothes are your summer clothes are your autumn clothes. Add a few cardigans for winter and you're done.
Yes, you have to drive everywhere. And the freeways can be congested. But the streets are broad and for the most part well maintained. Parking is usually plentiful. It's just...easy...to go places, run errands, pick up and drop off at will. Don't get me wrong; I enjoy using public transport, especially knowing that I'm not polluting the planet with my individual gas guzzling machine. But it is such a hassle to run errands on public transport. Not only are you limited to just what your arms can handle, you also have to negotiate your bundles up and down stairs, squeezing past your fellow passengers, walking from the bus/tube stop home, etc. How wonderful to have cargo space and a back seat in which to put shopping bags, dry cleaning, take out meals, presents for friends and family members! You don't know what you'll miss until it's gone: for me, it's a car trunk.
And, oh, there's so many other things that make life in Los Angeles attractive. The beach. The sunsets. The neighborhoods that change ethnicity when you cross a street. The wide variety of food that comes from living among so many cultures. The farmers' markets. The Farmer's Market. Silverlake. Griffith Park. Dodger Stadium. The grassy median that divides San Vincente. Cinco de Mayo. UCLA Extention. And that's just the tippy-top of the iceberg.
When I'm in LA, I want to live there.
When I'm in London, I want to live here.
And when I'm in one city, I yearn for the other.
I guess as problems go, it's a pretty First World, privileged problem to have. So I'll shut up about it.
But London does have one thing that is currently tipping the scales in its favor: No one wears burnt orange.
The trip was about as spur of the moment as a transatlantic trip can be: we made our plans on December 4, the day after the UCLA-USC football game.
I'm a USC alumna, and my husband has some pretty hardcore Trojan supporters in his family so he was an easy convert.
It sounded like the perfect excuse for a trip back to Los Angeles: The USC football team would be going for their third national championship title (sorry, any LSU lovers/USC haters out there, but the AP title counts. It has for over 50 years. So sit down and shut up. Thank you.) And they'd be playing practically at home, in the Rose Bowl. The last USC game we were able to attend was the 2004 Rose Bowl, a win over Michigan - it was time to see another one. The days in London are short and dreary, some Southland sun would do us good. And hey, we'd get to celebrate for surely Pete Carroll and co. would triumph. After all, they had for the last 34 games.
It will come as no surprise that the trip didn't go as planned.
It started with Virgin changing our seats from a window/aisle twosome at the front of the economy cabin to two seats in the middle at the rear of the plane, even though we checked into our preferred seats via the internet the day before the flight. Apparently, there had been a change of aircraft and our original seats no longer existed on this plane. A minor thing, but enough to start the trip off on a sour note.
The sun was also lacking, at least when we arrived. It was the first time in 52 years that it rained during the Rose Parade. In fact, it rained so hard that the floats were barely visible on television (we thought about going, but the weather put a quick kibosh on that). The viewing stands started out full, but as the parade went on more and more white bleacher space was revealed. And if the precipitation weren't omen enough that this would not be a Tournament of Roses to remember, KTLA's demotion of Stephanie Edwards from parade co-host to lowly sidelines commentator was. Stephanie and Bob Eubanks are a tradition, damn you KTLA! Just as much of a tradition as USC winning the Rose Bowl. Oops...
We didn't have tickets to the game. No problem, we thought. Yes, it's a national championship game and there's a lot of hype and endzone tickets are going for over $1200 each on EBay the day before the game, but c'mon. There's bound to be some scalpers at the game who'll eventually panic and sell the tickets for less.
Not.
We arrived at the Rose Bowl around noon, for a 5:15 p.m. kick-off, and got onsite parking immediately. See! This will be easy!
My, how naive we were. We should have grabbed a clue when we saw it was parking stacked ten deep and eight across, and we were surrounded by cars carrying people in ugly burnt orange. (Oh, c'mon. It IS an ugly color. It's so ugly, Crayola doesn't have it even in the big box.)
It turned out that not a small number of people, from both schools, had the same idea as we did re: tickets. There were far more buyers than sellers. The two pairs of tickets we were offered were $1400 each and $2000 each. We wanted to see the game, but we also wanted to keep a semblance of sanity. We walked around the Rose Bowl twice, stopping to refresh ourselves at my in-laws' RV, before resigning ourselves to watching the game on one of the bigscreen TVs set up by various tailgaters for the members of their party who couldn't get tickets (they even had satellite dishes linked up to the TVs so as to get the best signal).
But as we were walking back to the car to put away our tailgate gear, a guy saw us asking for tickets and told us he had singles to sell for $600 a piece. "Oh," we said. "It's a little steep but we'll pay it." Inside we were jumping up and down and screaming with excitement. We ended up with a pair after all - but in the Texas section.
Now, a disclaimer. I lived in Texas for five years, near Dallas. I know a lot of very nice, very intelligent, very cultured Texans. I know they are the norm rather than the exception.
And I could handle losing to Michigan. Or Penn State. Or Ohio State. In fact, a Rose Bowl vs. a Big 10 team? That's the way the world is supposed to work. Or even Notre Dame. Losing to Notre Dame is honorable. They're a highly respected rival. But the University of Texas? Crybaby Mack Brown who whined his way into a BCS game last year and "gangsta" Vince Young (hey, his words, not mine)? Losing to a team whose quarterback is such a poor excuse for a sportsman, he couldn't even shake Reggie Bush's hand when Reggie won the Heisman?
Oh, that HURTS.
Texas fans in person are some of the nicest people I've met. We were treated very decently, sitting in their section. But Texas fans online are obnoxious, moronic, and classless. Seriously, just stay away from sports message boards. I've learned my lesson the hard way.
I'm proud of the Trojan football team. It was a good game. If it had been one minute shorter or one minute longer, USC would have won. It was that close. Both teams played very well on offense, and both teams' defenses didn't show up at key moments. USC made one more mistake than Texas, and that was their downfall. If Reggie Bush hadn't tried to showboat and throw a lateral, the final score would be much, much different.
But, oh! Do I despise a certain segment of the online Longhorn fan population. Hatesss them I do, precious.
To get my mind off the game - and to return to my normal, sweet, humankind loving self (honest. I am usually a very nice person. Even to neo-cons, who after all make up 80% of my family) - I went shopping. Nothing like a little retail therapy to lift the soul. And there were many retail therapists to visit, from Target (I miss Target most of all, I think) to Anthropologie to Bloomingdale's.
Which brings me to the burning question: Why can't I live in two places at once?
I mean, I love London. I do. We're having a great life here. There's travel and theater and history and new things to learn and do and see. Sometimes I have to pinch myself, to make sure I take a minute and appreciate all that I have, the opportunity I've been given.
But then we visit Los Angeles. A place where I lived for twenty years and my husband lived his entire life. We have family there. Friends. Roots.
Life in Los Angeles is...easy, for lack of a better word. The weather is generally amazing, give or take a few winter downpours and a few sweltering summer days. So it's easy to get out, to get around. No need to struggle with umbrellas or mittens or muddy boots. And no need for an extensive wardrobe (unless you want one) - your spring clothes are your summer clothes are your autumn clothes. Add a few cardigans for winter and you're done.
Yes, you have to drive everywhere. And the freeways can be congested. But the streets are broad and for the most part well maintained. Parking is usually plentiful. It's just...easy...to go places, run errands, pick up and drop off at will. Don't get me wrong; I enjoy using public transport, especially knowing that I'm not polluting the planet with my individual gas guzzling machine. But it is such a hassle to run errands on public transport. Not only are you limited to just what your arms can handle, you also have to negotiate your bundles up and down stairs, squeezing past your fellow passengers, walking from the bus/tube stop home, etc. How wonderful to have cargo space and a back seat in which to put shopping bags, dry cleaning, take out meals, presents for friends and family members! You don't know what you'll miss until it's gone: for me, it's a car trunk.
And, oh, there's so many other things that make life in Los Angeles attractive. The beach. The sunsets. The neighborhoods that change ethnicity when you cross a street. The wide variety of food that comes from living among so many cultures. The farmers' markets. The Farmer's Market. Silverlake. Griffith Park. Dodger Stadium. The grassy median that divides San Vincente. Cinco de Mayo. UCLA Extention. And that's just the tippy-top of the iceberg.
When I'm in LA, I want to live there.
When I'm in London, I want to live here.
And when I'm in one city, I yearn for the other.
I guess as problems go, it's a pretty First World, privileged problem to have. So I'll shut up about it.
But London does have one thing that is currently tipping the scales in its favor: No one wears burnt orange.
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