“YOU’RE having a laugh?” I squawked at the stoney-faced sales assistant in front of me.

“You seriously expect me to stay in all day on Saturday or take a day off my work to wait for my delivery?”

“Well, I’m afraid so,” was the curt reply.

“Why can’t you give me a specific time slot?” I asked

“Once the driver is out, he’s out,” was the less-than-explanatory explanation.

“But, I might need to nip out to the shops,” I pleaded.

“Well, it’s up to you if you want to run the risk of missing the driver.”

“But ...”

However, my attempts to get what I considered a reasonable response were futile. I knew it. And so did the inflexible assistant.

Recently, I ordered some make-up online and I normally arrange for it to be delivered to my workplace which is manned 24/7.

But in haste I accidentally asked for it to be delivered to my house.

And, sure enough, when I returned home there was a card lying on the mat from the Post Office informing me I could collect my package on Saturday up until noon.

Unable to go, my daughter Jenna headed to the post office where, on arrival, she handed over the collection card.

“You need ID.” She was told.

“But I haven’t got any,” she protested. “Surely the collection card is enough?”

“Afraid not.”

“But there’s the package there,” said Jenna pointing at my goods.

“It’s got her name on it – look, Janice Bell.”

Apparently, the package was so close Jenna could almost touch it.

However, the assistant stuck to his guns.

“Sorry, but you need to prove who you are or I can’t give you the item.”

“Sorry mum. I did try,” Jenna said handing me back my collection card a few hours later.

By the time I finally got round to collecting my package, I was informed it had been sent back to where it came from.

Aaaargghhh!!!!

Leaving the post office rather dejected, I nipped in to my sister Jean’s house for a cup of tea and while in her kitchen I couldn’t help but notice stacks of tubs of salt on her kitchen window sill.

So much so, that it blocked out most of the daylight.

“What the ...?”

“I know,” Jean sheepishly acknowledged. “I thought I ordered 1 kg of Himalayan salt but ...”

Apparently Jean hit the wrong button on her keyboard and ordered 30 kg of Himalayan salt by mistake.

I have to say, it did indeed look like a Himalayan mountain!

Jean had tried to reason with the delivery driver to no avail.

“Sorry, but you did order it,” replied the driver showing Jean the delivery note as affirmation of her stupidity.

And there she was now, with a salt mountain on her kitchen window sill.

While having a good moan with my friends about our delivery and ordering woes Susan added: “I remember in Mexico I ordered what I thought was chicken for my dinner."

We all wondered what the heck chicken had to do with my post office parcel.

“But when it came,” she continued, “I just stared at it for ages and thought it was a helluva size of chicken leg....... turns out it was crocodile.”

We fell about laughing until Susan turned the focus on me.

“Have you ever tried ordering your grocery shopping online?”

I shook my head at the very thought.

“Well,” Christine jumped in.

“When Jim (her husband) was on yet another life changing diet, The Grapefruit Diet to be precise, I went online and ordered eight tins of grapefruit with my shopping.”

“And guess what?” she laughed.

“Instead of grapefruit, they sent me oranges.”

“Talking about oranges,” added May. “I ordered six oranges and guess what I got.”

“Bananas?” we laughed.

“Nope, I got six orange scented candles.”

“That’s nothing,” said Gillian who was clearly dying to tell us of her online mishaps.

“I ordered two packets of antihistamine for my hay fever.”

“And ...?” we chorused, keen to know what actually arrived.

“I received two packets on anti-diarrhoea tablets.”

I couldn’t get my head around such mix ups until Susan explained: “See, when you’re ordering online Janice, if the store doesn’t have the product you ordered in stock, they send you a substitute.”

“But what’s the point of sending me something that’s useless?” I asked, exasperated.

Ignoring me Susan ranted: “I was over the moon when my holiday sandals finally arrived, as I was heading off to the sunshine the very next day”

“That was lucky,” I answered.

“Lucky?”

Susan’s face was a picture.

“Janice I’m 5ft 10, and have size 8 feet ... and the blinking sandals they sent me were a size two.”

Seems to me that perhaps online shopping isn’t all its cracked up to be after all.