Delivering a result: the tyranny of NZ Post policy
It’s policy: How many crimes and misdemeanours have been explained away thus? Everything from parking laws to segregation, the pedantry of current health and safety legislation to outright genocide. In my case the stakes are rather low but what of the principle of the thing?
Some context. A few weeks back I alluded to a problem I was having with New Zealand Post. One of their minions had been dispatched to inform me of an important new policy decision. It had been decided on high that posties would no longer climb stairs. If you required delivery to a level above that of the street, as is the case for both my domicile and place of business, other arrangements would have to be made. Essentially, this was an ultimatum: either build a letter box or we will toss your mail on the floor, at the mercy of the passing masses.
It should be noted that this new policy is radically at odds with the service provided in the past. For 13 years, with only one, notable exception, posties have done their job, ascending the 21 steps as they would any incline in a suburban environment. The Hamilton central business district is flat, offering no natural challenges of the mountainous variety. I would have thought that a few stairs here and there would provide an interesting point of difference. They certainly would not kill anyone, least of all the robust types engaged in what was once believed to be a noble, worthwhile profession, if not a calling akin to that of the religious. We are not talking Sisyphus and his rock here. After all, how do their colleagues cope traversing the hills of Wellington or Baldwin St in Dunedin? Perhaps they breed ’em tougher down south: like our rugby team, Waikato posties have fallen below the national standard and risk being labelled ‘‘soft’’.
Having neither the money nor the skill, still less the inclination to affix a letter box to an entranceway that has existed for about 60 years without one, I stood my ground. Common sense would surely prevail. No professional worth their salt would abandon letters and parcels. After all, NZ Post must have a legal responsibility. Everyone knows that it’s a crime to interfere with the mail. Throwing it on the ground would seem even worse. A dereliction of duty. A breaking of a sacred oath. An unraveling of societal fabric. Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.
It’s unlikely our postie reads W. B. Yeats. Nevertheless, her recent work has proved a revelation. Policy has been enforced. Bank statements, medical information, Christmas presents, DVDS imported from overseas, Trade Me purchases, all have been dumped at the foot of the stairs.
Has this been done with righteous fury, to bring a recalcitrant into line, or is there some measure of ethical conflict involved, an internal battle perhaps between traditional ideals and corporate indifference? Does she feel any twinge of conscience? Is there a shadow of doubt? Does that magic word ‘‘policy’’ absolve all sense of sin and shame, or does some vestige of humanity remain, if only in the ‘do unto others’ sense? Would she like it if her mail were abandoned to the elements and passers by?
Such things remain a mystery. The placement of the material speaks for itself. Direct lines of communication have been severed.
Needing to make myself heard, I rang the NZ Post complaint line. An audience was granted, with surprising speed. Getting to the point swiftly, after a minute or two venting, I sought to explore my options. If NZ Post could no longer be relied upon to deliver, would it be possible for them to hold my mail for a potential, once-a-week pick up? Not on a permanent basis. Moreover, they would charge for the privilege. It was suggested I invest in a Post Office box.
It’s moot which was the more galling, the manner in which the organisation’s withdrawal of services somehow segued into a pitch for more business or the cold and efficient manner in which the call centre worker trotted out the party line.
Looking to defend the indefensible, he explained that posties could no longer climb stairs because it meant briefly abandoning the rest of their mail, an unacceptable security risk. How could they then in good conscience leave my letters and packages effectively in the same place, for hours on end?
It’s policy, apparently, not logic.