(No) Developments with My Liban Post Fiasco
I'm not sure who tipped Liban Post about my rant--who knew how difficult it could be to mail a package of Lebanese sweets to The Hague?--but last week Customer Care left a comment on the blog post, apologizing for my poor experience and requesting my phone number. The very next day, a lovely representative contacted me, asking me to recount the entire ordeal in detail so that she might perhaps provide further assistance or clarification.
But matters only grew more complicated, as she revealed the fine print on sending "parcels." In the event that a parcel is not successfully delivered to the recipient, it will be seized by the Dutch courier and sent back to the original sender. How gracious, I thought, until the customer service agent informed me that I'd be accountable for the return expenses incurred. What? I stammered. Si, si, she responded. Hadn't I carefully read the French-scripted receipt upon which I'd scrawled my John Hancock? I didn't recall such a receipt, because the only one in my possession simply enumerates the charges of the transaction as well as a tracking number. She went on: if I didn't want the package to be returned, it would be destroyed in the Netherlands.
I assured her that I did not care for the package's safe return to Beirut--maamoul can be readily had here in the motherland, in a fresher and less costly state than the batch sent on a roundtrip voyage to the Netherlands. But when had I ever been prompted to specify this? During my miserable attempts to mail the parcel, Liban Post hadn't even made mention of these options.
Since I had Liban Post on the line, I asked the agent to check on the status of my package. I'd mailed it on Saturday, May 4th, and after five days of sorting, processing, and clearing customs, it'd finally made its departure. Does a box of pastries really necessitate such extensive examination, especially when it's being mailed to the land of space cakes and hash brownies? At length, 16 days have passed, and the maamoul are still untraceable. Next time, I'm sticking with a gift set from Deutsche Amazon.
But matters only grew more complicated, as she revealed the fine print on sending "parcels." In the event that a parcel is not successfully delivered to the recipient, it will be seized by the Dutch courier and sent back to the original sender. How gracious, I thought, until the customer service agent informed me that I'd be accountable for the return expenses incurred. What? I stammered. Si, si, she responded. Hadn't I carefully read the French-scripted receipt upon which I'd scrawled my John Hancock? I didn't recall such a receipt, because the only one in my possession simply enumerates the charges of the transaction as well as a tracking number. She went on: if I didn't want the package to be returned, it would be destroyed in the Netherlands.
I assured her that I did not care for the package's safe return to Beirut--maamoul can be readily had here in the motherland, in a fresher and less costly state than the batch sent on a roundtrip voyage to the Netherlands. But when had I ever been prompted to specify this? During my miserable attempts to mail the parcel, Liban Post hadn't even made mention of these options.
Since I had Liban Post on the line, I asked the agent to check on the status of my package. I'd mailed it on Saturday, May 4th, and after five days of sorting, processing, and clearing customs, it'd finally made its departure. Does a box of pastries really necessitate such extensive examination, especially when it's being mailed to the land of space cakes and hash brownies? At length, 16 days have passed, and the maamoul are still untraceable. Next time, I'm sticking with a gift set from Deutsche Amazon.
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Good news! It arrived yesterday morning, after 18 days in transit. Surprisingly, it was intact, unscathed by the long voyage, and its contents still very much edible :)
ReplyDeleteThat was exactly what I was about to ask....some months ago I sent a box full of havaianas sandas to Beit Chabab. No zip code, nothing...I could not believe that they arrived intact
ReplyDeleteLebanon is indeed a country of miracles. Don't ask--simply embrace!
ReplyDelete