After my whinge about post office employees the postal system shows its other side. We received a wedding invite posted to us the other day. The only correct things in the address are my name (it's an old friend, I'd be upset if they hadn't managed to get that bit right!), the city and the country. The rest is so far wrong was probably copied out of the wrong address book.
The invite took only 2 days longer to arrive than those posted to English address. I'm impressed by that, but still haven't forgiven them for not letting me post my letters on Monday.
Showing posts with label postal system. Show all posts
Showing posts with label postal system. Show all posts
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Customer Service? Not in Bosnia
The Bosnians have someway to go to learning about customer service. A few recent incidents have bought this home.
Yesterday was a miserable day. Temperature just above freezing so all the snow kind of melting, kind of freezing and outside is a general festival of mud of Glastonbury proportions. I had no idea what to do with the kids, so decided to take them to post some letters which involves going to the post office as there are no postboxes in Tuzla, and then have a ride up and down the escalators at the local shopping centre. There isn't very much to do with kids in Tuzla, a ride on the escalators is as good as it gets on a grey Monday afternoon. The shopping centre isn't very far, so I decided to get them to walk there.
We had one of those mind-altering toddler moments. Luke was unable to move faster than the pace of a drunken snail. Adam was obsessed with a red car that had driven past full of young lads and was full of questions. After I had answered for the 150th time (no exaggeration) that I didn't know where they were going or why they were in a red car and was privately wondering if this is what taking large amounts of drugs was like, we finally arrived. We went to the post office and patiently queued. The boys did a runner, I gave chase and we lost our place in the queue / melee that masquerades as a queue in the post office. They had another attempt to scuttle into the toy shop foiled by their mother. Back to waiting. And so on.
We finally reached the counter at 4.01pm. The post office shuts at 4pm. All I wanted to do was to give the man 3 letters which already had stamps on. He said No. All he had to do was put them in his bag. He glared at me, I glared at him. He said No again. And that was that. There was no way I was going to be able to hand over my letters. I might have said a naughty word.
I told D all about it and he reminded me of the time we were in the supermarket and Adam had accidentally hit a bottle of honey which smashed on the floor. We alerted the staff to what had happened and were promptly marched off to the managers office where we were made to pay for the honey jar. Now, there was no doubt that it was our fault it was broken. I'd have been surprised to be made to pay for it in the UK, after all we do spend a lot of money in the supermarket. But, it wasn't so much that we were made to pay for it, 11KM isn't going to break the bank, it was the feeling that we were criminals as we were marched off. D was so angry with the treatment he actually wrote an email to the head office of the supermarket. No reply to date.
Yes, there are definitely moments that the remnants of the communist system shine through.
Yesterday was a miserable day. Temperature just above freezing so all the snow kind of melting, kind of freezing and outside is a general festival of mud of Glastonbury proportions. I had no idea what to do with the kids, so decided to take them to post some letters which involves going to the post office as there are no postboxes in Tuzla, and then have a ride up and down the escalators at the local shopping centre. There isn't very much to do with kids in Tuzla, a ride on the escalators is as good as it gets on a grey Monday afternoon. The shopping centre isn't very far, so I decided to get them to walk there.
We had one of those mind-altering toddler moments. Luke was unable to move faster than the pace of a drunken snail. Adam was obsessed with a red car that had driven past full of young lads and was full of questions. After I had answered for the 150th time (no exaggeration) that I didn't know where they were going or why they were in a red car and was privately wondering if this is what taking large amounts of drugs was like, we finally arrived. We went to the post office and patiently queued. The boys did a runner, I gave chase and we lost our place in the queue / melee that masquerades as a queue in the post office. They had another attempt to scuttle into the toy shop foiled by their mother. Back to waiting. And so on.
We finally reached the counter at 4.01pm. The post office shuts at 4pm. All I wanted to do was to give the man 3 letters which already had stamps on. He said No. All he had to do was put them in his bag. He glared at me, I glared at him. He said No again. And that was that. There was no way I was going to be able to hand over my letters. I might have said a naughty word.
I told D all about it and he reminded me of the time we were in the supermarket and Adam had accidentally hit a bottle of honey which smashed on the floor. We alerted the staff to what had happened and were promptly marched off to the managers office where we were made to pay for the honey jar. Now, there was no doubt that it was our fault it was broken. I'd have been surprised to be made to pay for it in the UK, after all we do spend a lot of money in the supermarket. But, it wasn't so much that we were made to pay for it, 11KM isn't going to break the bank, it was the feeling that we were criminals as we were marched off. D was so angry with the treatment he actually wrote an email to the head office of the supermarket. No reply to date.
Yes, there are definitely moments that the remnants of the communist system shine through.
Friday, 16 January 2009
the road less travelled
A while back I asked all my friends to send me and the boys a post card should they be travelling anywhere. The idea was that we would add the postcards onto the large map of the world we have stuck on the wall and this would get the boys into the idea of maps (what can I say? I'm a geographer, I like colouring things in blue and believe SATNAV is a cheat).
The request went a bit viral and lots of people have sent us cards from all over the world, including amongst others Hongkong, Philadelphia, New Zealand, Vanuatu, Canada, Antarctica. The postman always looks at me askance as he hands over another postcard from some foreign land.
Today however came the pinnacle. A postcard arrived from Timbuktu. I'm so excited. This cannot be a standard or well worn postal route. And a big congratulations to the postal systems of Mali and Bosnia. I'm not sure the British system would have made it.
The request went a bit viral and lots of people have sent us cards from all over the world, including amongst others Hongkong, Philadelphia, New Zealand, Vanuatu, Canada, Antarctica. The postman always looks at me askance as he hands over another postcard from some foreign land.
Today however came the pinnacle. A postcard arrived from Timbuktu. I'm so excited. This cannot be a standard or well worn postal route. And a big congratulations to the postal systems of Mali and Bosnia. I'm not sure the British system would have made it.
Thursday, 27 November 2008
footloose and buggy free
I realised the other day as I was rootling about in the garage, that since we got to Bosnia I have barely used the buggy at all. Not surprising for Adam really, but Luke is still not yet 2, and we go on dog walks of a good hour every day. Admittedly we don't actually go very far and I have to carry him for some of the way, but even so this is a development I was not expecting.
The Bosnians are terrific walkers, and do walk everywhere and they don't tend to use the buggy for children that can walk either. I imagine this has something to do with the lack of pavements and very bumpy roads not being remotely buggy friendly. As I look out onto the snow and ice scene outside the window I can also see that buggies are not really viable for half the year anyway.
There are a few unexpected side effects of this new buggy free status. I do drive more than I did, a quick walk with a buggy becomes an hour of torment as I try to entice both boy to move forward in a direction slightly faster than that of a drunken snail. Fine if I am trying to kill the hours of a long afternoon but not great when trying to get everyone to nursery before it shuts.
Trips to grown up places like the post office or a bank have also become more tense. For as every parent of a toddler knows, buggies are not merely instruments of moving your child from A to B. Oh no, they are the vehicle in which you can neutralise them by strapping them in and they have to stay where they are put. Without a buggy, and with 2 toddlers I find myself spending a lot of time pursuing the boys around and about whilst waiting for a free counter. With the Bosnians not respecting any form of a queuing system at all, I frequently find myself in said bank or post office for hours and usually have to abandon plans to retain some form of self respect and dignity.
The Bosnians are terrific walkers, and do walk everywhere and they don't tend to use the buggy for children that can walk either. I imagine this has something to do with the lack of pavements and very bumpy roads not being remotely buggy friendly. As I look out onto the snow and ice scene outside the window I can also see that buggies are not really viable for half the year anyway.
There are a few unexpected side effects of this new buggy free status. I do drive more than I did, a quick walk with a buggy becomes an hour of torment as I try to entice both boy to move forward in a direction slightly faster than that of a drunken snail. Fine if I am trying to kill the hours of a long afternoon but not great when trying to get everyone to nursery before it shuts.
Trips to grown up places like the post office or a bank have also become more tense. For as every parent of a toddler knows, buggies are not merely instruments of moving your child from A to B. Oh no, they are the vehicle in which you can neutralise them by strapping them in and they have to stay where they are put. Without a buggy, and with 2 toddlers I find myself spending a lot of time pursuing the boys around and about whilst waiting for a free counter. With the Bosnians not respecting any form of a queuing system at all, I frequently find myself in said bank or post office for hours and usually have to abandon plans to retain some form of self respect and dignity.
Thursday, 13 November 2008
To hookey or not to hookey... that is the question
Continuing a theme from my previous post. Whilst I am extremely happy that Amazon delivers to our front door (I'm still cheering), we probably won't be buying too much from them. Firstly, the Bosnian postal system is notoriously, shall we say, leaky. Most parcels make it through but a significant number do not. Certainly a high enough number that we don't want to spend a lot of money to have a parcel disappear into the ether.
Secondly, you can get pretty much any dvd you want here. The Bosnians subtitle rather than dub, so we use film watching to also improve our language skills ('oh - that's what that means' type thing). Films, TV series - you name it, you can probably find it. What you won't be able to do is find a legitimate copy. In fact, although I know of any number of shops to buy dvds, I don't know of a single place in Tuzla where I can buy legitimate ones.
As the wife of someone whose living relies on people buying legitimate versions of his products and not using the cracks available on the Internet to get it for free, I do appreciate the need for copyright laws and their non-violation. But, if the legitimate products are not available, what is the alternative? The Bosnians look at us in amazement when we pay £15 for a dvd - here you would buy them for £1.50. And in a country with huge unemployment and an average wage of about £500 a month (I don't have the figures to hand at the moment, so this figure is my best guess, please don't quote it!) you can see why.
Secondly, you can get pretty much any dvd you want here. The Bosnians subtitle rather than dub, so we use film watching to also improve our language skills ('oh - that's what that means' type thing). Films, TV series - you name it, you can probably find it. What you won't be able to do is find a legitimate copy. In fact, although I know of any number of shops to buy dvds, I don't know of a single place in Tuzla where I can buy legitimate ones.
As the wife of someone whose living relies on people buying legitimate versions of his products and not using the cracks available on the Internet to get it for free, I do appreciate the need for copyright laws and their non-violation. But, if the legitimate products are not available, what is the alternative? The Bosnians look at us in amazement when we pay £15 for a dvd - here you would buy them for £1.50. And in a country with huge unemployment and an average wage of about £500 a month (I don't have the figures to hand at the moment, so this figure is my best guess, please don't quote it!) you can see why.
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