A new online delivery service aims to clean up the transport industry – www.findmycourier.com.

Findmycourier.com allows anyone with internet access, including business’, to list items for delivery where a network of national and independent couriers and shipping companies will bid to move their goods.

According to research by the department for transport (http://bit.ly/5d2jE3) couriers spend up to 25% of their time completely empty, so using this service they can keep their vehicles running at full capacity saving both money and unnecessary road miles.

Without the larger presence and advertising budget of some of the larger transport companies, some smaller operators struggle to get noticed in such a competitive field. Findmycourier.com allows courier companies large and small to bid for the same delivery; finally leveling the playing field for couriers and offering the customer huge savings.

Different from normal freight boards and load matching services, findmycourier.com uses a reverse auction style bidding system and allows the user to accept or reject bids as they please.

Keeping It Safe

In addition to the tools and services on findmycourier.com, there are several measures taken to ensure their users are kept safe from scammers.

Managing Director Paul Kutschmarski says “We wanted to ensure our users felt safe choosing a courier, passing over details and making payments so we’ve gone to every effort to provide them with the information they need to stay safe. Before you accept a bid you will be presented with all of the couriers information including whether they have relevant insurances and how much is covered etc”.

“Further to this you can see if they are a member of any trade or courier associations, all of which have strict entry requirements. Group all this information with our detailed feedback system and you quickly get a clear snapshot of the courier company before you decide to use their services”

In an industry where couriers face increasing running costs and the ever rising pressure to decrease their carbon footprint, findmycourier.com opens the door for courier companies large and small to excel both financially and environmentally.

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Firstly, the home delivery systems offered by most of the large supermarkets are, by and large, very user-friendly and it certainly seems to be the easiest way of getting a weekly or monthly shopping known to [wo]man! I’ve probably used most of the main ones by now, as I’m a bit of a fickle creature and tend to go with whoever can offer me the most at the point in time that I need it (and I am still talking about my groceries here … I know your mind, dear reader)! That said, I do have my favourite, as my local delivery guy who offers “roll-over” can testify (and I am still talking about my groceries … etc).

Anyway, last week I flitted to a more “value” provider whose courier duly arrived at my door, clipboard and boxes in hand. Thus equipped, he dutifully waited whilst I untangled the main beast (the one creature more fickle in her passions for all things delivered than I) from her best beloved new man, then tricked the puppy into the dining room (yes, there’s now also a puppy) and he then began the ceremonial handing over of boxes. My son, home from his shift at A.N. Other supermarket of European persuasion, kindly stepped in to help and soon we had a bit of a system going, Supermarket-courier-man, my son and I, with the dogs acting as enthusiastic cheerleaders from the sideline confines of the dining room! It all went very smoothly (considering my supplies required unpacking as we went because I’m still trying to be green so I’d eschewed my rights to carrier bags in favour of the more environmentally friendly loyalty points)! With both my son and myself unpacking our goodies from the delivery boxes it seemed only moments before we were waving goodbye to the gentle delivery man and turning back to organise our purchases into our cupboards. At this point the conversation went something like:
Me: Dear son, did you unpack the wine?
Son: Wine? Have we got wine?
Me: It’s for Christmas, did you unpack it?
Son: I haven’t seen it? Can I have one for helping?
Me: It’s for Christmas, did you unpack it?
Son: Oh, no I didn’t!
Me: Are you sure?
Son: No comment but a very disparaging look, almost daring me to go for the pantomime-like challenge his last comment had invited!
We hunted around the kitchen but no wine was apparent. It was then that the penny dropped and I (as you well know from previous posts, being one of those people who does not do running) flew out of the house at a somewhat surprising pace, to catch the nice young delivery man who was still putting his van back in order. He turned, alerted by the sound of wheezing.
“Have you any wine for me, please? We haven’t got the wine!”
He glanced back into the van and almost spammed himself on the forehead: “that’s because I’ve left a box in the van!”
We exchanged relieved smiles as he unearthed the box and carried it up to the door for me, six bottles of white and a box of tea bags.
“Of course” I told him, “it was the tea bags I was worried about, can’t do without tea bags!”
He handed the box to my son who was languishing on the front doorstep and then turned to me with one quizzically raised Roger Moore eye brow. Now anyone who knows me knows that I am horribly honest and can’t lie to save my life, and the whippersnapper’s eyebrow was enough to shame me! I dropped my gaze and came clean.
“I just ran down the street to get my wine, didn’t I?”
He nodded, woefully. I dared to look up at him.
“That doesn’t look good, does it?”
He shook his head, still woeful.
“You won’t tell will you?”
With a tap at the side of his nose and a hero’s knowing smile, Supermarket-courier-man returned to his van and I returned to the kitchen, to count my bottles and hide them from he who’s not getting his hands on them until Christmas!

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Since I’ve moved to my new locality, the ‘pass the parcel game’ appears to be quite different to my previous neighbourhood. Although there is less than ten minutes’ distance between the two areas, the folk are very different!

At my previous address, finding a card declaring that our parcel had been delivered elsewhere instigated the following course of events:

*   Very close scrutiny of the card to identify the door number of the neighbourly recipient.

*   Whole-family conference and negotiation to delegate some hapless or hardy soul to go to retrieve said parcel (hapless or hardy being decided by the actual number on the card, thus the neighbour).

*   In the case of a hardy soul being needed, re-negotiation to identify ‘back-up’ in case hardy soul should not be successfully hardy enough to complete the quest.

*   A reconnaissance mission, of equivalent precision and vigilance as that show on military manoeuvres, to check out the required journey between our home and the parcel, particularly looking out for the possibility of the trip co-inciding with any one (or on one occasion, it appeared all) of the following:

1. running a gauntlet of fierce dogs in the address’s front garden;
2. the presence of Chloe, the neighbourhood’s demon child, repeated winner of her    Class’s Most Likely To Achieve An ASBO Award (serious achievement at the age of eight).
3. the presence of the local street drinker sitting (very loose term) on a wall at the bus stop (as this was at the bottom of our front path, it was our wall) and, whilst I am not cold-hearted, eye contact was not for the faint-hearted.
4. a selection of local laydees at the bus stop (think Viz characters and you will know what I mean).
5. police presence (in the manner of raiding the crack house on the corner, opposite the end of the road). If blue lights were flashing, all would be well and collecting the parcel would be part of a street party!

All of this of course also had to be considered when negotiating who was going to go a-calling for the parcel!

At times, even the next door neighbours were sometimes (although kind enough to take in the parcel), less than neighbourly about being called upon for collection. On one occasion, the elder male of the family answered the door, scowling in readiness at me. He spotted me meekly clutching the courier’s cheery card (on account of my being hapless rather than hardy) and I didn’t have the chance to utter a word before he snapped: “well come and get it then” before turning heel into the hallway and shuffling back into the front room. Obviously I had to follow the instruction and, by the time I entered the front room, he was back in his arm chair, resuming his ‘comfort’ position, presumably the one he was in before I rang the bell and, using the remote to un-pause his porn video with one hand, he soundlessly indicated the parcel on the table with the other. Not waiting to ponder any double-entendre from the only words he had uttered, I grabbed the parcel, uttered my thanks and legged it to the sanctuary of home!

Things are very different now. We are in a neighbourhood where the black recycling boxes also serve for the safe deposit of smaller parcels, so there is less need for the passing of parcels to the neighbours (recycling containers were not part of the old neighbourhood lest they be used for anti-social purposes – the mind boggles)! Nowadays, the courier’s card is scrawled with what looks like a drawing of a snake and two letter ‘b’s which broadly transcribes as ‘black box’, so all the family can venture to retrieve the treasures, no conference required, both the hapless and the hardy remain unchallenged! Where a neighbour has taken in a parcel, they invariably stop you as you come home, to chat about your day and to hand the package over with a funny story about how the courier just caught them on their way out to the Women’s Institute / doctor’s surgery / station or just as they were sitting down for a “nice cup of tea” – an entirely different kind of retrieving parcel conversation!

So, such are my tales of passing the parcel among the neighbours! I just know that couriers will have much more to say about their experiences of the dropping off process …any one want to go first?

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that, with its snail-like stealth, it is reminiscent of queues in the old days, where food and employment were carefully rationed, slowly apportioned and not always available – this feeling added to by the invariable presence of purposeful pensioners, with their “done this before” glazed expressions?

that the post office queues take in such a cross-section of society in all its glory and with all its purpose – from the exchange of the holiday savings for the currency of choice of the wealthier, to the handing over of the benefit of necessity, of the more impoverished, disabled or elderly members of society, that the queue seems interminable?

to do with timing – you know that you are caught in a race for a window, for at any given time, the Law of Murphy (or other such well known phrase) predicts that as you near the front of the queue, at least one of the windows will close, reducing your options and increasing your wait time. You know that the Law of Murphy (or more particularly the other such well known phrase) is fully responsible for this when this happens and it is in fact also your lunch time and you have spent the whole of it in the queue, sandwich in one hand, urgent parcel / letter / bill in the other.

to do with what amounts to a sensory overload, the experience of waiting, surrounded by the white noise of the grumbling queue, advertising, tannoy summoning the lucky person at the front to the window of choice, upset / tired / hungry / grumpy wailing of some poor child or worse, some poor adult (hopefully not the cashier). Of course, that’s just the sensory overload on the ears, do you really want me to explore and explain the sensory overload on the nose that comes from a prolonged queue at a local Post Office not of my own, but of desperation’s choosing?

a direct result of the fact that so many of our community Post Offices have been closed down, that the remaining branches are so over-run and over-worked, that queues form whatever the time or day, so whilst you cleverly anticpate having missed the pension queue, you actually find yourself nearer to being one in the time it takes you to pop a parcel into the post because the fact is that since the closures, main Post Offices experience little in the way of lulls nowadays, they are all busy all of the time.

Who knows, ultimately, why the experience of queuing at the post office feels like an insight into the queue of poor, misguided souls at Hell’s gate? All I do know is that if you can avoid it, if a courier can do it for you, without the queueing, stress and major time commitment, it might well be wise to pursue some of those courier options.

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Below is a step-by-step guide that will assist you in packaging your goods and arranging transport for your pallet delivery.

What is a pallet?

• Pallets are constructed of wood, metal, or plastic and are designed to be picked up and moved by a forklift, allowing them to be quickly loaded onto a waiting lorry. If appropriate pallets can also be stacked.
• The standard pallet dimensions are 1m x 1.2 m or 40” x 48”.

What are the advantages of using a pallet?

• Pallets keep your goods safely off the ground and away from soil, oil or water contamination. They also keep your items together and lessen the chance of an item being lost or damaged.
• Transport companies prefer to carry pallets as it allows for easier and faster loading and is cheaper and more efficient for them. This allows the companies to offer lower prices to their customers.

What types of goods are suitable for a pallet delivery?

• Most goods are suitable for pallet delivery, including: furniture, electrical appliances, motorcycles, household items, boxed goods, building materials, and even some well-packaged fragile items.
• Hazardous materials are the major exception and will not be accepted for pallet delivery.

How to prepare for your pallet shipment.

• Contact your chosen courier company and provide full and accurate details of the destination plus the nature of, and the dimensions of your shipment. Ask if your pallet qualifies as a full, half, or quarter pallet shipment. Make sure that your load does not exceed the courier company’s weight limits.

How to load your pallet.

• Obtain the correct packaging materials for the items begin sent. The most common material used is transparent stretch-wrap, but you can also use plastic or canvas straps. Opaque or dark stretch-wrap can also be used to conceal high value items.
• Make sure to carefully package items in sturdy cardboard or wooden boxes, and bubble wrap any fragile items.
• Work out a plan for loading your items on the pallet so that they are stacked as neatly as possible and are secure – projections beyond the pallet need to be avoided if possible. If this is not possible consult the carrier.
• Place your sturdiest and heaviest items on the bottom and work your way upward.
• If transporting any mechanised devices ensure that all oil or fuel is drained before loading.
• Make sure that your goods are not only tightly bound to each other, but also to the pallet itself.

Finalise the details of your pallet delivery.

• Choose an established company with a good reputation that has the proper equipment and facilities for palletised shipments.
• Finalise the details of the pick-up and delivery of your goods.
• Ensure that your pallet delivery is located in an accessible place for collection.

Rest assured that transporting your next big item or large shipment using pallet delivery is the best
option. Pallet deliveries are safer, cheaper and more efficient than any other transporting option.

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The summer holidays are upon us so, in a temporary respite from the on-going joys of secondary classrooms, Himself and Myself are at home! In anticipation of being ‘around’ this week, I had arranged the delivery of required necessities for a project of the spend-now-to-save-later-kind, of which I am becoming an expert and my husband becoming a despairing onlooker. So, the expected parcel arrived with all due ceremony but with this week’s difference being that I did not have to rush to the front door and try to save the poor innocent courier man from the very enthusiastic (not to mention very forward) advances of our dog, but was able instead to detain her in the kitchen whilst my husband answered the door. After a few moments came the sound of the front door closing and Himself appeared in the kitchen, hoicking his trousers in a manly fashion and with a strange look on his face.

“Well” he exclaimed “that was unexpected!”

I began my usual defence about the necessity of parcel items but he waved away my argument.

“Not that,” I’m sure he rolled his eyes at this point. “That courier….he wasn’t a normal courier man.”

Now, that’s interesting – I’m sure between us at Find My Courier we could (and should) write a checklist on what is involved in being a ‘normal’ courier – is there a type, as clearly some clarification is in order? Anyway …

“He was wearing one of those …. you know…. a yellow one …” he made a strange gesture around his arm pits.
“High vis vest?” I offered helpfully.
“Well, no …. not high-vis but it was a vest, you know, with no sleeves, so lots of bits were high-vis, not the vest, his body … he clearly wanted to show off his tan and his muscles, and he clearly wasn’t expecting me to answer the door. He was dressed like a Chippendale.”

My eyes popped. “As in American, stripper type or old, wooden armoire type?” Clarification was everything at this point, what with the mental image I was building and all.
“All vest and body and smiles, you know …. all, all … swarthy.”

Swarthy! Here is Himself describing Courier-man in the manner of a Jackie Collins bodice ripper, I don’t know who was more surprised, myself or the dog but I do know that by this time she and I were both kicking ourselves (and she was definitely kicking me) for having missed this.

“And do you know what he said?” Again trouser hoicking, clearly his umbridge was bristling. Such body language made it very difficult to hazard a polite guess, it appeared that along with the package, some kind of green eyed monster had been delivered, and asking the question implied that ‘not the normal courier man’ could not have conversed along the standard “I need a signature here, guv” lines, but perhaps the more swarthy approach of: “stand aside, buffoon, I have a special package for the lady of the house.”

I shook my head mutely, I think I may have been pondering the latter.

“He said …” Himself drew to his full height with rising indignation. “It’s heavy … can you manage it?”

I was still mute, largely because I was biting my tongue and both lips to prevent myself from laughing out loud. I think I managed “and …?” to show encouragement.

“So, of course I managed – it’s in the hall and it’s a big one.”

I gave suitable thanks to soothe the ruffled ego whilst Himself waxed further lyrical about the Chippendale of Courier-world, in terms of description that old Jackie would blush before using until, finally, the moment passed. I thanked him quietly again for his help.

“That’s ok. Don’t try to pick it up, if you want it moved give me a shout …. I’m just going to get on up the garden now.” He paused at the back door, dog now at his side, as if her loyalties had never been tempted elsewhere. “By the way, do we have any liniment; I think I might have pulled something?”

As ever, I’d be glad to know your thoughts about the courier-type issues raised in this further true life event – yes, this really is my life! In particular about the ‘normalities’ of Courier-world and interpretations of a ‘high vis’ dress code – I’d love to know!

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Anyway, promoted by the recent break in the weather and the resultant high winds, which have mercilessly shaken the majority of the apples from the stout little apple tree we inherited when we moved in, I decided not to waste my windfalls but to investigate recycling these chubby little sours into chutney. If you are not impressed by this, I will further attempt to do so by revealing that I have not only been saving my old jam and pasta sauce jars in anticipation of the chance to preserve something (possibly my husband’s sense of humour), but I have also been harassing my mum for hers!

So, after an exhausting time rescuing my fruits from the garden, ergo the dog (who regards anything small and round on the grass as a ball and therefore a game of six-circuit-chase-around- the-mimosa-tree before dropping it, is required), I gathered my culinary implements around my cauldron only to discover that apparently I need extras, including little waxed discs to put between the chutney and the jar lid, to stop the vinegar acting up with the lid to get my chutney, er, in a pickle, so to speak.

Undeterred, I postponed the hubble-bubble for a couple of days and hopped onto that well-known internet auction site to do a quick investigation into the price of my absent essentials. I happily perused the [actually not very] interesting range of these and then began a comparison in earnest between costs, including the delivery. Now some sellers give more detail than others and one, who is clearly proud of having a 24 hour delivery service, had added some small print to clarify what 24 hour delivery actually means. In amongst his diatribe (and anything that starts with the words “as some small minded people quibble about what a 24 hour courier service means, let me make it plain…” surely has to be a diatribe) was an explanation as to how 24 hour refers to time taken to dispatch, with the disclaimer that issues occur because the retailers are “not perfect, we are human” – quite right and fair enough, it happens, and couriers “well, they are a law unto themselves” uh, oh – surely not right and fair enough?

Since I have been confined to home more (illness, dear reader, not electronic tagging), I have met a variety of delivering type callers from week to week, so feel that the comments in the listing seem to pass a harsh judgement on a whole body of well-meaning professionals (well, at least all of those that I have met so far, and I can assure you that I’ll let you know about it if I meet one that isn’t!) So, it only seems fair for the right of reply to be thrown out into courier-land: what do you make of that remark? Or (and possibly more fun) if you were a law unto yourselves, what are the laws you would pass, in respect of those that you deliver for, and those who you deliver to? This could be very interesting ….!

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Now, I can honestly say this is not the first time this has happened to me. Previously I was actually standing behind the closed front door when the card came through the flap. Quick as a flash I opened the door to the retreating postie, immediately questioning his calling tactics. “Your bell’s not working” he pointed out, very reasonably. I felt I was equally reasonable when I pointed out that I had no bell, but a knocker and he had obviously been carrying just the card and not my parcel as he was, now, empty handed. He sheepishly conceded that during general working hours, it’s anticipated that the majority of people are not in to accept deliveries, so he had not worried about bringing out my parcel as I’d be at work. Good plan, just not in the school holidays though.

My question is, is this common practice among delivery men, be they courier chains, private or independent couriers or part of a national delivery service? Is there a kind of professional knock-down Ginger that anticipates no-one will answer the door anyway, so at times of convenience, it is the card and not the parcel that comes to the front door? Only you guys can settle this question, so it’s over to you …. !

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“The door’s shut” he announced.

“That’s not good,” I replied, as it seemed useful to identify this as a problem, to a potential rescuer.

However, the postie’s earlier familiarity of apparent first-name terms was then lost as he gave me a curt nod, turned heel and continued on his merry way, leaving me with a collection of post in one hand, and a squirming dog, held by her collar, in another.

The builder from next door looked over the fence. “I don’t have a rope” he stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s OK” I smiled “I’m just locked out, not suicidal.”

He looked at me blankly and nodded in the beast’s direction. “For the dog.”

“Oh.” I pondered my dilemma as he returned back to his important work with a bucket and spade (I’m really not kidding)!

Ultimately, dear reader, my return to my humble abode was achieved by my testing of the security features of my back fence, as accessed from the road behind, having trailed one handful of dog and one handful of post up my road and back down the one behind, all in my slippers. The fence (thankfully on this occasion) failed the security test by facilitating a gap big enough for me to first shove said dog and post through and then climb through myself. However I reached only half way in, before the dog decided to come back through the same gap. Now she’s a big girl: laid end to end I am the smaller, so her return trip resulted in some kind of push-me-pull-you type creature (bottom end of me and top end of her) left poking out on the road side. Enter courier-man, happily delivering in the next street: “Are you ok?”

Unsure which end of which of us he was addressing, I maintained my dignity (as if I had any left at this point) and mumbled “yes thank you” just as the dog decided that this one was indeed the man of her dreams and shoved herself all the way back through to show him so, consequently scraping the whole of one of my legs along the rough edge of the fence panel in the process.

Kind courier man held her collar whilst I righted myself, then inserted her back through the gap and secured it on the road-facing side by means of careful replacement and propping with stones, whilst I thanked him through gritted teeth as I pulled the most immediately painful splinters out of the leg. He gave us both a fantastic grin and “no problem” before he too went on his merry way.

So, post- man 0, courier-man 1: chivalry at the roadside is alive and kicking as a result of this episode (although the dog’s days may well be numbered)!

This is a true event in my life, so how about one of yours? Have you, as a courier, happened to be in the right place at the right time, to help out in a crisis or damsel, if not deranged dog-owner, in distress? Do tell!

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This role has taken him from one end of the UK to the other – he generally drives the bus to the charity organisation and then gets the train back, all as emissions-friendly as a brand new engine on a maiden-voyage can be. At other times more than one journey is required, if he is needed to fetch the bus from the main manufacturer and then drive back to the local workshop for the organisation’s personalisation or modification requirements to be carried out before, a day or two later, driving on to make the delivery at the organisation itself.

The deliveries can be anything to dropping off in a car-park of a charity HQ, being invariably greeted by a site-manager with his sandwich in one hand whilst looking at his watch on the other, to driving coaches into high-profile presentation ceremonies, where the bus takes centre stage and assorted dignitaries invariably including the donating body, some kind of celebrity (often the ones still pursuing the Butlin’s entertainment circuit or, bizarrely, Chris Tarrant) or alternatively still a royalty-related patron of said charity, as well as representatives of the charity’s client-group. He finds these enjoyable because he is always invited to join in the top-notch refreshments (typically catered for by the donating body) and can usually settle down to a welcome tea, along with the designated driver of the new bus, and have a very happy hand-over hour chatting about the technical side of the new coach’s features.

His favourite drop-offs though? Arriving at a special school where students, staff, governors and patrons all hail him and flag frantically a safe passage into the car-park for an awaiting special greeting and thank you committee. He loves these events the best because he gets to really put the bus into the context of its purpose and is able to pass on information first-hand to its subsequent drivers and passengers, sharing their delight in what the new bus will mean to them, even if it does include giving 20 of them a ‘turn’ on the wheelchair lift before he gets a well-earned cuppa!

So, that’s his courier role. I’m guessing there are few courier jobs that can give that much humility and satisfaction in the course of a working day, but I know there must be others out there – ambulance drivers and special medical drivers spring to mind: patients or organs- one must have to go to the other for transplant, right? Undertakers – a very humbling courier task indeed, which often involves this very professional service in several necessary transportations before that very final one. How must it feel to have that responsibility?
So, do you have a particularly fulfilling courier role? Here at Find My Courier, we’d love to know about any courier specialism you have, so do let us know! In the meantime, when you’re out on the road, give a little hail to the bus driver of the charity buses – the kids love a little honk and wave and, if it’s a lone driver, well, it might be my step-dad undertaking his ultimate courier role!

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