Come on La Poste, you’ve gotta be having a laugh!

It’s been a while since I’ve had any run-ins with La Poste, but my latest experience must be a joke, surely? You decide!

What can you read next to the postcode below?

What town can you read here?

NICE right?

At least I’m pretty damn sure that that looks like NICE – 06000 NICE.

Well, guess what? After a few weeks of wondering why my letter hadn’t been delivered, it appeared in my letter box, with NICE circled and a sticker on it saying that La Poste didn’t know what town it was.

Not delivered as they don't know the town

I knew we were rural here, but come on, this is just a joke right? Even if my handwriting is that hard to decipher, I’ve put the post code on there, 06000 which is the postcode for NICE! Gahhhh, I am speechless and might very well take this letter back to La Poste and ask for a refund!

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Never believe anything’s impossible! A lesson learned in La Poste.

I’ve had many frustrating run-ins with the La Poste (post office) as I am sure most people living in France and many other countries have experienced also, but the lack of consistency in service and unhelpfulness in France is second to none.

Until yesterday.

I had ordered some items online from Amazon and like a fool, I had forgotten to switch my address details in Amazon to my new address so they were sent out to my old address.

The new owner averted us that the postman had left a calling card and that the local post office (remember the incident I had here when I was pregnant?) was holding the items. We were in Lyon yesterday and as we had arrived a bit early for my appointment, Mr Piglet suggested I try and negotiate with La Poste and see if I can get them to give me my parcel.

We had a bit of a domestic in the car as I was absolutely convinced that I was wasting my time but I set off sulkily to the La Poste whilst he waited in the car. I took my ticket and waited my turn, all whilst tutting to myself about what a big fat waste of time this was.

Well, I wouldn’t be writing this post if it turned out to be a waste of time, so I may as well get to the point: THEY GAVE ME THE PARCEL! Yes, I had no calling card, no proof of address – just my passport and the parcel number which Amazon had sent me by email.

I don’t know if it is because it is holiday time and the staff were stand-ins, but the lady on the desk immediately understood my problem as soon as I started explaining and offered a solution stating that she just needed the parcel number.

If only more of my experiences could be like that but it’s great to have something positive to say about them for once even if I did have to listen to Mr Piglet say “I Told You So” when I returned to the car with the parcel!

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Losing it at La Poste

After many, many rants about La Poste and the incompetence of the employees, my visit this morning was one I was not particularly looking forward to, but I didn’t quite count on it ending as it did…

I was to collect a registered letter (which should have been delivered to my home but of course the post man hadn’t bothered to ring the doorbell). A relatively simple task you may think, simply present the post office worker with the delivery slip and ID and hey presto they’ll give me the letter.

Not so simple. The letter was for a business and normally I have a business La Poste card which I show to avoid the need to present any further paperwork. A thorough rummage through my very disorganized handbag resulted in me realizing that I did not have said card on me.

I tried to explain my plight to the post office worker who wasn’t having any of it.

“Who are you” she demanded, “Are you the owner of the company?”

“No, no, I’m his wife and employee” I tried to explain, “my husband’s just had surgery so I’m coming in on his behalf but I don’t appear to have the card”.

“Well, I can’t do anything then” said the women rather rudely, but in fairness I understood that no card and no ID meant that they couldn’t give me the letter.

What happened next rather took me by surprise and is really unlike me. Instead of leaving admitting defeat, I heard a loud wailing and shouting and basically what can only be described as hysteria. I suddenly realized that I had tears streaming down my face and that it was me making all this noise.

As I realized that I had had a major outburst and people everywhere in the post office were looking at me, I felt overwhelmed with embarrassment. What had just happened? It was so not like me to just totally loose it like that. I mean, I had really, really lost it.

The manager was there and I was surrounded by postal office workers trying to calm me down. I rather timidly explained that I was pregnant and that it must be the hormones and apologized for my outburst. Thankfully the manager joked that she had never screamed as much as when she was pregnant and she understood. Unbelievably she then went off and got me my letter! Now who would have expected that? Even I cannot believe it now that I’m writing about it and have the letter on my desk!

It’s a shame you can’t swap post offices in France like you can swap bank branches as I think it’s going to be an awfully long time before I dare brave them again, so utterly humiliated and embarrassed I am by my pregnant woman drama queen performance.

Mr Piglet & his operation:
Above I mention that Mr Piglet has just had surgery, don’t panic, all is well and Mr Piglet is in good health! He had an arthroscopy on his right wrist which basically consisted of the surgeon screwing two of his bones together. The surgery was planned but just wasn’t expected to take place so soon, although I’m rather pleased it has done as it’s now out of the way and in a few months he will be right as rain and more importantly in six months he will be able to hold his baby.

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Piglet’s Trotters & La Poste Miracle

Not my feet! Photocredit: MaxFx PhotoExpress

I was having a miserable morning at work today and decided to distract myself by taking a walk to La Poste to pick up some registered mail I needed to collect. On the way, I walked past the drop in beauty salon (as you do) and decided to go in and get ready for my upcoming holiday.

Drop in beauty salons are a great idea as you don’t need an appointment (hence drop in) so you don’t have to plan ahead on how hairy your legs are going to get. When it’s time to go, you just go, sit and wait however long is necessary and then get what you need doing done. These seem to be a necessity in French culture, especially with the current display of poor weather meaning that a sunny day takes us completely by surprise. Generally at the drop in one, there’s always about a half hour wait so I was in shock today when I walked in and I was seen straightaway.

Pleased with myself that I hadn’t had to queue, I succumbed to the beauty treatment of the month, a pedicure, and let myself relax knowing that work was quiet and that I had the whole afternoon to catch up if need be.

I hope the beautician was earning good commission though, as I think she got more than she bargained for when I peeled off my trainers and socks and revealed my trotters! I don’t think she expected to nearly get two black eyes either! My tigglish feet meant that I had serious lack of control on a couple of occasions when I nearly kicked her in the face! I don’t think she will be so keen to up sell to me in the future…

The pedicure was so relaxing I lost track of the time and the main reason for my venture into town: La Poste. Ah, the dreaded French postal office. As soon as I was finished, realizing that it was 1pm, I quickly dashed to the post office only to find they were in the process of closing for lunch! Oh no I thought, I’ll have to come back later in the day, meaning a complete loss of time and more missed work, the shame! I explained my predicament to the lady closing up and she ever so kindly let me in and as there were no other customers I was seen straightaway. Given all the horror stories I’ve heard about La Poste and judging from my own past experiences I will consider this a miracle.

The miracle didn’t last long though. I was quickly put into place as walking back the heavens opened and I got a true soaking!

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Mr Postman

I’m especially pleased today as our postman is back from his holidays so this should mean the end of having to collect post from the post office because the stand in postman is too lazy to ring the doorbell.

This comes as excellent news the day I am hoping to receive my passport back through the post. I was really worried that I was going to go and have to sign for it at the post office and show my ID to get it, all whilst explaining that my passport and drivers license are in the packet so therefore I’m currently without ID.

Better not project myself too far ahead though, I haven’t actually received it yet so fingers crossed that the postman rings!

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Lettre Recommandée

Oh la la ! Opened up the letter box the other day to find I had an Avis de Passage (a note from the postman to say that he had tried to deliver a Lettre Recommandé and I needed to pick it up at the post office). A Lettre Recommandé is a letter that needs to be signed for and is usually important.

On looking closely at the note, I realised that it wasn’t in neither my name or my hubby’s name but shock, horror, my UK businesses name. It then dawned on me that we would have fun and games getting the letter from the French La Poste as they are notorious for being sticklers on paperwork and everything having to match just so.

You see, as my UK business isn’t registered in France, I don’t have any of the official documents La Poste would ask to see in order to know that it is truly me. No Kbis, no utility bill so no proof of address = no letter.

Hubby had a brainwave and suggested I print of all my UK Company house documents showing that the business is in the UK and I am a director. Therefore any He even offered to go to the post office and pick up the letter as he knew I dreaded any contact with the post office works.

Actually quite clever that, he knew that if I went I’d be in a stinking mood for hours and probably wind up having a slanging match with a post office worker. Yes, it has already happened. More than once.

A couple of hours after, Hubby returns with the letter! Youpee! He said I’d rather not know what happened but at least he got the letter (he assures me it wasn’t violent).
La Poste 0 – Hubby 1

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