Preamble: ripped from my Facebook.
It is of no surprise to me that you have multiple Facebook accounts because whoever is in charge of your searchable internet presence is obviously just a bunch of carrots dressed up in a man-suit.
I honestly believe this after receiving a text from you incompetent eggs telling me to pick up my parcel at Startrack Melrose Park Depot. So I hop in my car, drive to this out of the way suburb, that not even the residents of which know existed, only to be told by the security guard at the gate THAT THIS DEPOT HASN'T EXISTED IN 6 MONTHS! He also added to this disappointing piece of info that he gets multiple pissed off parcel seekers per day who've received the exact same message.
"So why is this message still being sent out?" I ask the poor bastard in your call centre who has probably never fielded a pleasant call in his time there?
"I'm not sure but usual and exhausted I'm sorry and I understand spiel Stargate Chullora Depot."
Well, I've already come this far, what's another 45 minutes in peak hour Sydney traffic? I Google Maps it to "Startrack Chullora Depot" and in 45 minutes time, I arrive at my destination where I am informed THAT STARTRACK HAS NEVER EXISTED AT THIS ADDRESS.
For a company whose sole purpose it is to deliver things to specific addresses, I am a bit baffled as to how you ballsed up your own. Twice.
I know I'm on a rant here but please continue to bear with me. I'd like to give you an analogy...
If I were to order an ornate, one-of-a-kind crystal chandelier, which I am likely to do at any moment now, I would pay extra money to have it delivered by 200 drunk, dizzy, directionless and duct-taped-together carrier pigeons who would be attached to the crate by some sort of harness fashioned out of confetti and paper mache.
I know the package might arrive a bit banged up and covered in hungover pigeon shit... but it would arrive. It would arrive as opposed to being thrown into the black hole of Startrack's non-existent depots only to be found in a millenias time when alien archeologists dig through the crumbled remains of earth in search of what lifeforms once existed here. And they would find a seared and scorched package labelled "Thomas Smith" and wonder what sort of being he was, never knowing how truly pissed off an individual he was.
