I’ve committed Tesco suicide. That is, online Tesco suicide (vowing never to shop at any Tesco, ever again, is likely to inconvenience me far more than it will inconvenience them). The action comes after our home shop was late for the second time in a row, the third time in a month and the fifth time this year. I don’t just mean 10 minutes late; I mean three hours late.
Of course things happen: first the delivery van was in an accident. Then it broke down. Twice. Then it never arrived at all thanks to the snow, and after being trapped on the M23 for eight hours in blizzard conditions I’ll give them that. Then the delivery driver fell down a flight of stairs. All I can deduce from this list of excuses is this: we must have the most hapless delivery drivers in Christendom.
This ‘service’ incenses me beyond belief. What is the point of offering a one hour delivery slot if you can deliver the groceries at any other time except the allotted – and paid for – time? Why run such a service without a contingency plan for when things break down or said hapless driver finds him (or her, but highly unlikely) self in an accident? Why only text to tell your customer their order will be late half an hour into their delivery slot, when you must have known hours ago? And why not offer to refund the delivery charge? Anyone other than a supermarket giant would have gone out of business, and deservedly so.
Last time the shop was late, after being forced to wait indoors on a gloriously sunny Saturday and sacrifice priceless family time for a grocery delivery that was four hours late (and having to dispatch Misery Guts to – would you believe it – Tesco – to get us all some lunch which would have been in the order had it been delivered on time) I told them in no uncertain terms that if it happened again, I would take my business elsewhere.
So Mr Sainsbury’s it is. Even though, when the shop did finally arrive yesterday, the new driver was accompanied by his (hapless) colleague who had fallen down the stairs, looking suitably sorry for himself. I know this because the poor man had broken glasses and blood – yes blood – trickling down his elbow. Any other employer would have sent the employee home, but perhaps Tesco purposely trot them out to try and appease angry customers like me.
Of course I shouldn’t think Tesco will give a monkeys that I’m taking my online custom elsewhere. We spend roughly £70 a week on groceries, which over the course of a year equates to around £3,640. A drop in the ocean to them. But if every dissatisfied customer did the same, they might, just might, start to take notice, and this heartens me.
In the meantime, and in their very own words, every little helps.