Tummy rumbles and food delivery troubles are never a good mix. Dinnertime is fast approaching when I receive a text to say the driver is en route with my groceries. There are $300+ worth on board, including the protein I intend to cook my children for dinner, so it’s a little concerning when the van vanishes from the tracking map. Thankfully another SMS announces it is finally outside, yet I am filled with gnawing anxiety.
Over the past 18 months, my groceries have slipped through the delivery supply chain on 13 occasions, stripping more than $1000 from the supermarket’s bottom line in refunds and compensation vouchers to my household. The truck deliveries are hassle-free. It’s the gig-ified ones I have to watch. Do I live in a supermarket crime hotspot? Or can we extrapolate my losses by some quanta of people who order online deliveries to gain a national figure for the loss? It could be astounding.
On the night in question, I check the bags on the doorstep and, alas, my foreboding proves itself well-grounded. The most expensive items – the protein-rich ones – are nowhere to be found. My husband speaks to the driver, who invites him to check the car, and of course, that “cupboard” is bare.
Ten minutes later, we’ve brought what did arrive into the house – at least they delivered the toilet paper and Smiths crisps – and child No.1 is urging me to let her crack open the Smiths because she is hungry. No, I say, I’ll get you dinner in a moment; I just need a bit of time to request a refund. The refund tally exceeds $150.
At this point, let me just say I had planned to shop in-store during the week, but child No. 2 was home for three days with a fever, so I couldn’t go on one of those wild aisle safaris. Recall how online delivery took off during the COVID-19 pandemic? Well, for parents squeezed for time, it is still a saviour – when it works.
This night, it has failed me again, though, and I am so gutted that I could cry. It takes me an hour to log the items for the refund, contact a real person to negotiate some compensation for the loss and inconvenience, and a bit longer for them to consult their manager, before I am ready to prepare dinner – leftover stew with rice, which was never meant for the kids and which they do not like. (It’s the stew they reject that makes it the best?)
Meanwhile, my trust in online delivery from the two major supermarkets – I pay an annual fee for the privilege with one, but have run into the same problem with both – vanishes as mysteriously as the delivery vehicle disappeared from its tracking map.
I asked the online service operator if such theft happens often. Are the police investigating, is the store investigating, is it doing anything to stop the problem? I say that $20 seems hardly fair compensation for the time spent to put things right, and the fact that I will be out of pocket for three to five business days while its team looks into the refund.
But I can’t help thinking this problem comes down to the en-gigification of the economy and may be as old as modern Australia itself. While it’s a relatively minor theft – like convicts nabbed for “stealing a loaf of bread”, or the swagman smuggling a jumbuck in his tucker bag – it also shows a duopoly holding the nation to ransom, from screwing down suppliers at the farmgate, to jacking up prices on the shelves, and now washing their hands of a problem in their delivery decisions.
It makes me wonder if the big two supermarkets need a four pillars approach. The banks have to put up with it. And just think of the gleeful bean counters, as they tackle how to split the majors into a more competitive sector. There’s a free idea for you, pollies: look after farmers and give ordinary Australians a fair go at the same time – break ’em up!
If Amazon, Couriers Please and Australia Post can deliver the goods, it’s about time the big two supermarkets worked out how to do likewise. They’re already selling the service. A service that has let me down so many times that my trust is beyond repair.
At the end of the online chat, I was asked if I would recommend them to others. The online staff were lovely, I say, but I could not in good conscience recommend this retailer to anyone. I need to support the minors now, and take my custom to smaller suppliers.
I requested a refund for the subscription delivery service, but received a $40 voucher instead so that I could shop there again. Maybe I’ll blow it on toilet paper and potato crisps. At least I know they’ll arrive.
Rita Williams is a desk editor at the Herald.
Get a weekly wrap of views that will challenge, champion and inform your own. Sign up for our Opinion newsletter.
From our partners
About the Author
