We were building a new home in a brand new subdivision. I was the first homebuilder, so a lot of the services, I was the first to arrange.
I could tell a LONG story about getting AT&T's fiber network to my house. (They kept denying we had fiber, when I personally know the engineer who oversaw the installation)
The developer of the neighborhood (it was formerly a large cow pasture) had roads put in, and one of those "standing community mailbox" things for the neighborhood.
One location with everybody's mailbox, so the letter carrier makes one stop.
I was needing to establish mail service, so I stopped by the post office to get my assigned key, but was told they were still 'working on it'.
I thought that strange, because the developer had installed the mailbox unit, and turned all keys over to the post office, as he was asked to do.
Long story short, after about 5 attempts to get my key, with a different excuse every time, I was getting a bit impatient.
There's an African-American lady there who is ALWAYS kind and gracious, and I always try to be sure to get her as my point of contact at the PO.
So, about the 6th time, I waited patiently until she was available (I let some folks behind me go first) and asked her, "do you know why I can't get my key"?
She put a "tortured face", and darted her eyes toward the back office, and said, "my boss is mad that you keep coming and asking, and said you'll get your key when you get your key".
I was stunned.
I asked to see the postmaster, an angry little fat Hispanic dude, and he came out of his office.
Before I could even say anything, he yelled (there were employees and customers in the lobby) "I said I'm working on it, and you'll get your key when I'm ready".
Again, I was stunned, and replied, (admittedly in a not so friendly voice) "so much for customer service", and was going to walk out in a huff.
As I was walking to the door, he YELLED (in front of God and everybody) "Well YOU'RE A BAD CUSTOMER!!!"
I stopped dead in my tracks, and turned around and asked, "what did you just say?"
He repeated it, and I held my temper, and asked rather loudly but distinctly, "Because I am trying to get YOU to do YOUR JOB?"
And I left.
I was still hot about that a few days later, when I decided to see what my options were.
Next time I stopped into that PO, Grace, my African-American friend, handed me my receipt for the package I sent, but as I was going to the car, I noticed there was a business card with the receipt.
It was to somebody with the USPS Inspector General's Office.
I took that as a hint, and found out how to file a complaint.
Amazingly, just a few days later, I got a call from the Inspector General's office, very politely asking for more details, and the names of anybody else who may have been in the PO that day.
I knew several of the clerks (?) by name, and I also knew two locals (customers) who were there that day, as well.
Over the next couple weeks, I got some more phone calls from the Inspector General's office, asking for more details, or asking me to confirm elements of my story.
About six months later, I read in the paper that the former Postmaster had retired, and introducing the new guy.
When I stopped in at the PO the next time, I did my usual thing of waiting for Grace to be available to handle my business.
I leaned over and whispered, "I see Mr HotShot isn't here anymore", and she smiled real big and said, "THANK YOU, thank you, thank you".
I responded "thank ME?" And she said, "he really needed to go".
Moral of the story --- sometimes it's worth it to make that formal complaint, and sometimes it actually does pay off!
(I found out later that they "allowed him to take early retirement", but, still -- he's gone)
I could tell a LONG story about getting AT&T's fiber network to my house. (They kept denying we had fiber, when I personally know the engineer who oversaw the installation)
The developer of the neighborhood (it was formerly a large cow pasture) had roads put in, and one of those "standing community mailbox" things for the neighborhood.
One location with everybody's mailbox, so the letter carrier makes one stop.
I was needing to establish mail service, so I stopped by the post office to get my assigned key, but was told they were still 'working on it'.
I thought that strange, because the developer had installed the mailbox unit, and turned all keys over to the post office, as he was asked to do.
Long story short, after about 5 attempts to get my key, with a different excuse every time, I was getting a bit impatient.
There's an African-American lady there who is ALWAYS kind and gracious, and I always try to be sure to get her as my point of contact at the PO.
So, about the 6th time, I waited patiently until she was available (I let some folks behind me go first) and asked her, "do you know why I can't get my key"?
She put a "tortured face", and darted her eyes toward the back office, and said, "my boss is mad that you keep coming and asking, and said you'll get your key when you get your key".
I was stunned.
I asked to see the postmaster, an angry little fat Hispanic dude, and he came out of his office.
Before I could even say anything, he yelled (there were employees and customers in the lobby) "I said I'm working on it, and you'll get your key when I'm ready".
Again, I was stunned, and replied, (admittedly in a not so friendly voice) "so much for customer service", and was going to walk out in a huff.
As I was walking to the door, he YELLED (in front of God and everybody) "Well YOU'RE A BAD CUSTOMER!!!"
I stopped dead in my tracks, and turned around and asked, "what did you just say?"
He repeated it, and I held my temper, and asked rather loudly but distinctly, "Because I am trying to get YOU to do YOUR JOB?"
And I left.
I was still hot about that a few days later, when I decided to see what my options were.
Next time I stopped into that PO, Grace, my African-American friend, handed me my receipt for the package I sent, but as I was going to the car, I noticed there was a business card with the receipt.
It was to somebody with the USPS Inspector General's Office.
I took that as a hint, and found out how to file a complaint.
Amazingly, just a few days later, I got a call from the Inspector General's office, very politely asking for more details, and the names of anybody else who may have been in the PO that day.
I knew several of the clerks (?) by name, and I also knew two locals (customers) who were there that day, as well.
Over the next couple weeks, I got some more phone calls from the Inspector General's office, asking for more details, or asking me to confirm elements of my story.
About six months later, I read in the paper that the former Postmaster had retired, and introducing the new guy.
When I stopped in at the PO the next time, I did my usual thing of waiting for Grace to be available to handle my business.
I leaned over and whispered, "I see Mr HotShot isn't here anymore", and she smiled real big and said, "THANK YOU, thank you, thank you".
I responded "thank ME?" And she said, "he really needed to go".
Moral of the story --- sometimes it's worth it to make that formal complaint, and sometimes it actually does pay off!
(I found out later that they "allowed him to take early retirement", but, still -- he's gone)
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