Dorothy Perkins – Learn From Amazon

So the Dorothy Perkins saga continues. I still haven’t had my money back after 2 phone calls and 2 emails. It looks like I’m not the only one either: Click


Amazon on the other hand have been amazing!


Rob got me a Kindle for Christmas and I’ve loved it. It’s so quick to get books, and it’s often cheaper, let alone the fact that it’s so light and the battery power lasts for aaaaages! So I was devestated when I got back from a weekend away in Portsmouth to find the screen cracked, rendering it useless.


I thought they wouldn’t replace it under warranty because it was accidental damage, but as soon as Rob called Amazon they offered me a completely new one for free! Even more amazing, it arrived the very next day, and they sent DHL to pick up the broken one from Rob’s work for me!


Amazon, I salute you! Dorothy Perkins, you are crap!

Dorothy Perkins and the Case of the Missing Top

Last week I had an urge. An urge to update my wardrobe.

I don’t buy clothes all that often. I hate shopping for them, I hate trying them on, I hate that teeny creeping feeling that I’m about to have my eye taken out by a wayward coathanger. Neuroses aside, I prefer to buy online.

Dorothy Perkins had a sale on, so I headed over to their website and found a nice tunic-type top with a waist belt (I love a good waist belt). They were also having a 20% off sale, so I clicked buy, paid the amount I’d actually save on the top on postage (first frustration of the day) and headed to bed.

They kindly sent me a link to track my parcel, so track I did. I was a bit worried that it would turn up while I was at work, but I figured I’d be able to pick it up from a depot if it did. I was bored at work on Thursday and thought I’d check out and was delighted to find its status was “delivered” so when I got home I was a more than a little surprised that it wasn’t there. I decided to give DP a ring and find out where it was.

When I called, I was told I was 18th in the queue. Fair enough I thought, it’s just gone 6, everyone wants to call then. The hold music was terrible and I had no further updates as to where I was in the queue.

20 long minutes later, I’d checked Facebook, my bank account and made good headway through my Google Reader list, when they finally answered the phone. I’d pretty much forgotten what I was calling about by then, but did get the point across. I asked where my top was. They couldn’t tell me, but said they’d raise it with the courier and they’d email me within 48 hours. I hung up, relatively satisfied that something was being done.

Me being me though, I thought I’d try to speed it up a bit and tweeted @Dorothy_Perkins thusly:


So, that wasn’t very helpful. I also tried to contact the parcel service directly, but they also told me to contact DP.

I do realise it was then the Bank Holiday weekend, but she definitely said 48 hours, not 48 working hours, so I was more than a little frustrated when I still hadn’t heard from them on Tuesday. I decided to call again and demand my money back.

This time I was 14th in the queue at 7.58. After about 20 minutes, the music changed and I stopped getting the “Thank you for your patience” messages, so I knew I was being put on hold by a real life person. This was more than a little annoying.

After another 5 minutes holding, I was beginning to lose my rag and when the girl answered I just said the situation was ridculous, could I have my money back. She said yes, I could have my money back and she’d just find out what happened to my parcel. Now, I’ve worked in a call centre before and in many other different customer service environments and never have I been told it’s acceptable to keep someone on hold like that for any length of time without returning every couple of minutes to let the customer know what’s going on. I was on hold for another 10 minutes without hearing anything, When she eventually came back, I’d assumed she’d have a definitive answer. But no.

It turned out that the parcel courier hadn’t been able to find my address. Hmm….sat navs know where it is….Google Maps knows where it is….it’s in bloody great big letters on the front of the building for crying out loud! On top of that, when they’d said it was “delivered”, they’d actually “delivered” it to another parcel company without telling me or DP what was going on. Good job, son!

Apparently it would take 4-6 (wait for it) WEEKS to find out where the top actually was, so I’ve been given a refund. Or at least I’ve been told I have, it’s still not in my bank account or my PayPal account. 


So, to sum up, they’ve lost my top, kept me on hold on an 0844 number for the best part of an hour and can take my money at the drop of a hat, but it’s going to take 3-5 days for it to come back to me. Maybe the top will eventually turn up with plenty of stories to tell about the sites it’s seen, but I doubt it. I just can’t believe how poor their customer service has been from start to finish. I won’t be shopping there again.

Parcelforce Rant

It’s rant time again, this week it’s Parcelforce


Rob ordered something from America and for some reason they shipped it in two parts. The problem was, he had to pay tax on it when it reached the UK. The first part arrived on Saturday so despite the snowy weather, we went over and got it. He wasn’t asked for any ID, just gave over the tracking number and his address, paid a shit-ton of tax and we tootled off into the sunset.


Today, the second bit was ready for collection but where Rob’s at work, I went in to get it taking his passport with me like I would to get a parcel from Royal Mail. I was expecting it to be like last time, so I gave the address and Rob’s name and showing the guy Rob’s passport and my driving license. This time, this wasn’t enough. I couldn’t prove that I live at the address as the one on my license is my parents’ house in Portsmouth – I’m not changing it til we’re in somewhere permanent. So I dug through my bag and came up with a repeat prescription with my name and the address on it but that still wasn’t enough. I rang up Rob then to explain who was just as mad as me and asked to speak to the man at Parcelforce who refused because it wouldn’t help!


After going round in circles for a while and the guy going to ask his manager, he told me that I could go home and get a utility bill and that would be fine. Problem with that is that it’s Rob’s parents’ house so they pay the bills and he does everything online, as do I. The guy really didn’t like that and said it sounded suspicious! He flat-out disbelieved me that I don’t have any bank statements, phone bills or anything come to my door! How effing ridiculous! He then said I could bring in a bill with Rob’s Dad’s name on it, but they’re in Australia and I’m not about to go rifling through other peoples’ post. Then I asked what the difference between doing that and showing him my prescription with the tracking number for the parcel and both of our IDs was. That stumped him!


Eventually he went to see the manager again and grudgingly gave me the parcel, saying that Rob’s name would now be flagged and he’d have to bring proper ID next time. Fair enough, but last time they didn’t ask for any!


I think that might actually have won an argument with any sort of official, it feels good.


And yeah, I did turn on the waterworks a bit!

Doctors’ Rant

As I wrote in a previous post, I’ve been spending a lot of time recently in my doctors’ surgery (so much so that I am its Foursquare Mayor). Today, they really pissed me off!


I’m asthmatic and today I realised that the inhaler I take to prevent me having attacks has just about run out so I went in to get a repeat prescription sorted so I can breathe properly. As I said in that previous post, I’ve just recently had an asthma checkup there where we discussed which medication I take. Somehow despite this, it’s not on my records that I take the bloody thing even though I’ve had it for nearly 2 years! How is that possible?


According the receptionist, this meant that I have to have another appointment where someone will say “yes, you can have the inhaler” and I’ll leave within 30 seconds. After a 45 minute bus ride. Which will cost me money I don’t need to be spending at the moment. For some reason, she also suggested going to the Walk-In-Centre next door to get one, which I thought was strange. As did the nurse there, so much so in fact that she dragged me back in to the surgery to shout at the receptionist!


As for that perforated eardrum they said I had last time, it wasn’t even perforated!  


So, I guess it’s go back tomorrow or not be able to breathe….