Our website is woefully out of date with listings. One thing that we did update frequently was the offer to deliver. That has been removed completely now. This means it is only regulars who get deliveries and not the lazy chancers who have forgotten a birthday.
The problem was the wording. It used to say that we would deliver locally for free. To me that meant shoving a few cases in the back of the van and dropping it off on my way home. To some people “locally” meant Dorset, to others it meant the south of England and to overseas customers it meant the UK, or even Europe. I thought I would clarify by saying “in the town and surrounding villages” and then “within 10 miles”.
I always thought it wasn’t right to apply a minimum spend, especially if I was passing, but this generosity was frequently abused. One memorable instant was a phone call late in the day asking me to deliver to a neighbouring town. I hesitated and asked what she wanted. “Port,” she said. I hesitated again in case she wanted a few good vintage ports, but no. She wanted one entry-level ruby, a forgotten present for an unloved relative. I said no. She said she was from London, and I had to do it. Still no. She then told me she had checked and the address was 9.8 miles away so I had to do it. No, I didn’t. I explained that it was dark, it was New Year’s Eve, although it may be 9.8 miles away, it was 9.8 miles of single-track road there and 9.8 miles back again, and also the river Stour had burst its banks so I may not even get through. It would take me at least an hour. She then said that surely it must be worth it for £12. That’s £12 retail including VAT, not £12 profit. No again.
With limited knowledge of contract law, she then went on to suggest that our online advert was binding. It isn’t. It is an “invitation to treat” and only becomes a verbal contract once both parties have agreed terms. Even then a verbal contract isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. I had two other aces up my sleeve. Firstly, I told her that our offer to deliver didn’t state a time frame and I would be happy to drop it in next time I happen to be passing Sturminster Newton, which could be as soon as next month. The second was that I could quickly change our website. While she was on the phone and knowing she would double check the wording, I temporarily updated the offer to add, “but please don’t be a knob, we’re not Deliveroo”.
It’s always difficult to know what people think is reasonable. We used to frequently get asked if we would deliver a case to somewhere remote and, after agreeing, discover that the case was six bottles of cider. I’m thinking around £200 – reasonable. They are thinking £18 – unreasonable.
If I’m going somewhere new, I tend to do a Google drive-past first. That way, when I get there, it’s like I’ve been there before. Frequently it’s hard to read a house name. I then have to do further online research using estate agent sites. I then not only know what it looks like from the road but often the colour of their bedroom carpet. It has been a while since I have been hopelessly lost.
There have been a few times when the customer has had to give me very detailed directions. One, recently, over the phone, gave me the postcode and I Googled it while we talked. I followed her instructions using Google Maps and we both agreed the house I was looking at was hers: a cluster of buildings around a courtyard a mile from a crumbling “main road” and a good two miles from the postcode. It’s being done up. One day it might have its own postcode. One day it might have a road.
Last winter a very nice lady (why is it always women who demand delivery?) bought 12 bottles of Champagne and asked if I could deliver. Together, in the shop, we identified her house on Google Maps as apparently there is no satnav deep in the woods. I agreed to do it in the morning, in daylight, to give me a fighting chance. There was a storm that night and in the morning there were still warnings not to venture out unless it was necessary. I felt it was. I found the place eventually but had to move two fallen trees to get there. She was grateful and met me by the gate … next to her massive four-wheel drive. Hang on a minute. When you came to the shop to order the Champagne yesterday did you walk the eight miles – or did you drive in, in that beast?
