Not wanting to be the typical male and leave everything for the last minute to impress my sweetie with all the romance that comes from a weak bundle of half-wilted flowers you get from the gas station, I decided to actually get ahead of the game and 3 weeks prior to V-Day, started going through the FTD website in search of the perfect bunch of flowers. It took a week of going through everything and a couple of abortive attempts at ordering before I found one I liked and thought that she would like too. After failing at the online ordering thing, I called them up and spent 20 minutes on the phone repeating (and repeating) all of the information to the American on the other end of the line that was baffled by my harsh Canadian accent. The picture to the right is the one I eventually ordered. I thought that getting it delivered to her at work would be nice so she could make all the other librarians jealous with the awesomeness that is me and my thoughtfulness.
I spend the next two weeks all giddy in anticipation for the big reveal at her work when she gets the flowers delivered to her desk. Very 80s Rom-Com movie script. She’s sick on the 13th and doesn’t go in to work. I’m worried now. Do I call and change the delivery to her place instead? Nah. I decide to let it ride. Valentines comes, Denise goes to work and gets… nothing but 8 hours of her life stolen from her by her job. Shit. I call up the library to see if I can track things down. Not at the front desk (or whoever answers the phone when you call them up), not delivered to her desk on the 6th floor, and the shipping area closed at 4pm.
Denise lets me know this morning that she can’t find them at work, so I decide to call up FTD when I get home from my job to see what’s what. It seems like I’m not the only person calling FTD. My wait time on hold is an estimated 30 minutes. Ok. I can do this. I locate my confirmation email from 2 weeks ago and sit here at my computer waiting for a real person to come on the line. At 25 minutes, I’m squirming in my chair I have to pee so bad. I do that, sit back down at my computer and pull my chair in. My phone goes off hold a second later and they hang up on me. Oh my. (much harsher language was used at this point)
I call back up and the wait time to confirm orders is now 60 minutes. Awesome. I hang up and call again, this time selecting to talk to a Customer Service Representative (CSR). This one is only an estimated 10 minute wait. Yay! About 20 minutes later, a CSR named Ruel finally picks up the line. She’s so soft-spoken that after nearly an hour of listening to the on-hold music that is jacked up to full volume, I can barely hear her. I mention this several times during our conversation. She would speak up for 2-3 words then resume her soft speaking. She confirmed my order on their computers (after nearly having to give blood in order to prove who I was – it was easier to place the order than confirming it). She then puts me on hold again for another 10 minutes or so while she calls the local florist that was tasked with getting the flowers delivered.
Ruel informs me, quietly, that the florist didn’t receive the proper order number and that’s why that lovely bouquet of flowers wasn’t delivered. Really? In 2 weeks time they haven’t checked their orders? When they come up with a bad order number it’s just, “oh well, nothing we can do”? FTD has all of my contact information on file, including my email and phone number. Not that they would have needed to contact me… the order was correct on *their* computers.
In the end, I’m getting a full refund and Denise is not getting those flowers in the heart-shaped vase. FTD is not likely going to get any more business from me either. If I ever find out which local florist was in charge of my order, they’re going to be the victims of a viciously-worded complaint and much shaking of my fist in their general direction.