Last week, I was suddenly called away from home to help out with a family medical emergency, about an hour away. On my way to the rels' house, I had to dispatch the day's outgoing mail order packages (that's my biz) at their local small town post office.
I approached it juggling six parcels, a couple containing fragile antique ceramics, but I knew that this particular post office is never very busy and I looked forward to getting these items mailed out pronto.
Um, NO. Entering the outer vestibule of the p.o., I was shocked to see that the ENTIRE LOBBY was filled with l'il preschool sproggen and their handlers, with the sole postal clerk holding court, telling the kyddies ALLLLLLL ABOUT the wonders of our fascinating postal system and all its fun sticky stamps.
Sweet Priority Jeebus with Day-Glo Green Delivery Confirmation! I was like, WTF? I gotta get these packages out NOW! I don't mind waiting in line with other LEGITIMATE postal patrons, but hell, for preskool, why doncha send a clerk into their godforsaken playroom or something, just do not TOTALLY SUSPEND OFFICIAL BUSINESS in the designated location!
Frozen in the outer entry with a dozen auto-pilot super-torpedo death glares already launched at WHOMEVER, one of them hit an attendant moo. She crackd the door open and whispered intimately to me, "Would you like to come and listen?" With the worst annihilating arctic gimlet-eyed stare I could muster, I hissed: "How. Long. Is. This. Going. To. Take?" She blandly trilled, "Oh, about 10 minutes," and I thought SO THIS IS WHAT THEY MEAN BY "GOING POSTAL."
Gawd a'mighty. After the local birdcage liner photographer took some KYOOT PIX for the local rag <eye roll>, they FINALLY all file out. I'm backed up behind the heavy glass door, almost obscured by my pile of packages. Do you think that a.)the daycare center proprietoress; b.)any of the 5 "helping" moos; c.) the photographer; or, d.)the postal clerk apologizes to me, or thanks me for waiting, or acknowledges my presence and inconvenience in the slightest way?
Sorry you had such a bad time. I empathize with you completely. Don't cha wish you could've slapped some of those "Return to Sender, Item Refused" stickers on those kids? Seeing as you had boxes of stuff anyway, you could have caught one of the "free range" kiddies, put them in a box, and sent them to the Duggars. One more to them wouldn't have made a difference.
As I said, it was a small town post office. In that locale, my> relatives (same last name as mine) are well-known and well-regarded.> They do not share the same CF outlook and philosophy as I do. However,> our shared last name, a distinctive one, was on the packages I was> mailing. They were in a medical crisis situation, so I did not wish to> compound trouble by making a big effing deal about my irritating p.o.> experience. That is why I came HERE, to a.s.c., to vent. And I am SO> GREATLY APPRECIATIVE of having this place to air my true feelings.
Understandable, but there is still a difference between "assertively asking if you can conduct the business they are getting paid to do" and "ranting and throwing a screaming fit, demanding that all children die on the spot". At the very least, I would have addresses one of the employees with "is anyone working here for Post Office business?" I don't think they could get mad at you for that.
Understandable, but there is still a difference between "assertively asking > if you can conduct the business they are getting paid to do" and "ranting > and throwing a screaming fit, demanding that all children die on the spot". > At the very least, I would have addresses one of the employees with "is > anyone working here for Post Office business?" I don't think they could get > mad at you for that.
Or "Aunt Jane is in a bad way today, and I really need to get over to help her. I know that you really want to help me do that, don't you?", said with a smile that drips honey (and acid).
If "Aunt Jane" is known locally, it will cause the entire PO to drop everything they are doing to make sure you're taken care of, because "Aunt Jane" may well flay them alive if she ever hears they weren't helpful.
Hell, I'm not even related to the local folks who share my maiden name, and I've been known to use them for such things.
Beth
-- "History will deal kindly with me, for I intend to write it." --Winston Churchill
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