POST OFFICE COMPLAINTS.

Globe, Volume III, Issue 274, 28 April 1875, Page 3

POST OFFICE COMPLAINTS.

The Government of South Australia decided a short time ago to establish an ,f Enquiry and complaint department” at the General Post office, Adelaide. The idea is a good one, and if properly carried out might be of some advantage to the public. Our contemporary, the Adelaide Observer, however, has its own opinion as to how the department is likely to work, and publishes the following account of an imaginary scene as a specimen of the incidents which are likely to happen in the office : Scene —The Enquiry and Complaint office. Enter a fast young Junior Clerk from a merchant’s office. Junior Clerk (with his hat on) —Just look at that, will you ! We want an answer immediately. [Hands in a letter.] Clerk in Charge (reads) —“ From Messrs Brown, Jones, and Robinson, to the Post-master-General—We beg to state that an important letter posted by us to Moonta a week ago has not reached its address. Particulars at foot. Please make immediate enquiry for the same.” Junior Clerk—That’s what we want, and you’d better hunt up the letter pretty quick, or we shall make it hot for you. You see if we don’t. Clerk in Charge (calmly)—l suppose you are quite sure there is no mistake. Junior—Mistake ! We don’t make mistakes. It’s some blunder of your fellows of course. Clerk—Do you know who posted the letter? Junior—Why, I posted it myself last Friday. That’s why they’ve sent me down. Clerk —What makes you so sure about it? Junior—Well, you are a pretty cool hand ! I tell you I copied it myself along with a lot of others, stamped them all, and brought them down here to the post. Will that do for you ? Clerk—What makes you clear about the day?

Junior—No you don’t, old boy. I can see your little game; but you don’t shove it off

on to my shoulders I can tell you. Not if I know it.

Clerk (still impassively)—What makes makes you so clear about the day ? Junior—Well, if you must know, I remember it was the last hot day we had, and I haven’t worn this coat since till to-day.

Clerk —Did you carry the letters down in your hand or in your pocket ? Junior —How should I know ! Stop a minute. Yes, I recollect I met Jim Benson and shoved them in my pocket while we booked a trifle on the Cup, That’s between you and me, you know. Clerk —I see you have several papers there still. Would you mind taking them all out. Junior (nervously)—By Jove, it’s quite absurd, you know. It can’t be there. Clerk—You may as well look. Junior —I suppose you’ll be fetching a policeman next to search me. However, if you will have it, here they are, but I’ll take my oath the letter isn’t in it. There you see! Only a lot of odd things of my own. Nothing like an unposted letter among My word! If it hasn’t got inside this Kennedy’s songbook ! Clerk (mildly)—You see it isn’t always a blunder of our fellows. Junior—Oh, I didn’t mean anything. But look here, you know, I shall get into an awful row. Couldn’t you just mark it missent to Mount Gambier or something of that sort ? I’ll do as much for you another time. Clerk—We don’t do things that way. You’d better take the letter back and we will send an official answer. Good morning. Exit Junior Clerk in a state of collapse. Enter a pawky Scotchman, Scotchman —Are ye the chiel they spier inquiries at ? Clerk in Charge—l dare say I can tell you what you want to know. Scotch —Weel! ye see I’ve just walkit ower frae Kensington wi’ this letter. It’s frae brither Tam at Strathalbyn, an’ Enter a Lady. Lady—l think this is the place to make enquiries. Can you tell me, please, when the next ship from London will arrive ? Clerk—Really, ma’am, I can’t tell. But perhaps the agents could give you some information. What is the name of the ship ? Lady—l’m sure I don’t know, I thought you could tell me. lam expecting a friend and he—at least they said they should come in the next ship. Clerk—l’m afraid I can’t assist you ma’am !

Lady—Well, if you can’t answer a simple question like that I don’t see what your Enquiry Office is good for. I suppose it is no use making a complaint about it either.

Clerk—l’m afraid not, ma’am. Good morning. Exit Lady indignantly. Scotchman —Ye see the letter’s frae brither Tam at Strathalbyn, an’ it’s to tell me to gang doom to a bit sale at a neebour’s whar there’s been a poindin’, an’ it’s markit “ too late,” an’ sae ye see I couldna gang. Olerk—Well, Sir. Scotch.—Well, dinna ye see that brither Tam has spent siller on the paper an’ the envelope for nae gude, let-a-be the tippence for the stamp, a’ because it was too late ; an’ I thocht ye wad maybe gie me the tippence bock again. Clerk —Certainly not. It was not our fault the letter was too late.

Scotch —Sae ye mean to keep the tippence to your ain sells! Weel, aweel! it’s the way wi’ a’ Governments, I ken. They wad harry the de’il himsel’ for a bodle. Gin ye winna gie me the tippence I’ll just walk bock to Kensington an’ set the gude-wife’s mind at rest aboot it. Ye hae put a toom spoon i’ my mou, but I bid ye gude den.—Exit. Enter a second Lady leading a spaniel with a blue ribbon. Lady—l want to send this dog to Angaston. Will you tell me the postage if you please ? Clerk—We can’t take dogs, ma’aml Lady—l thought you took anything that weighed less than three pounds and measured less than two feet. Clerk (thinks of a small joke about four feet, but doesn’t venture it; —Not live animals. Lady—There is nothing about live animals in the regulations, I’m sure. I’ve fastened an address to his collar, and he’s not covered up at either end, and I think you are bound to take him. Clerk (looks at the regulations and feels bothered) —No, I see there’s nothing about live animals, but I’m afraid we shall hurt him in stamping, and besides he might get smothered in the letter-bag. Lady—You can easilj take care in stamping, and I am sure the guard would take charge of him instead of putting him in the letter-bag. Clerk (looks at regulations again, and brightens up)—No ma’am, it is clearly against the regulations. “ No packet allowed containing any sharp or pointed instrument.” We can’t take him unless you draw his teeth first. Lady snatches up the dog and exit in a fury. Clerk—Four o’clock, thank goodness! Fifteen people to-day to ask which hole they are to post letters at, nine about remittances that no doubt have never been sent, eleven wanting me to find out their missing friends, an M.P. to complain that the letter-carriers don’t touch their hats to him, and any amount of worry about undelivered newspapers 1 I shall be in the Asylum in a month if this sort of thing goes on every day. Sinks in his chair as the scene closes.