Note:

This blog is now retired. My new site is at: Predictably Irrational.

Monday, August 03, 2009

Going Postal

I had to hit the post office this morning to pick up my box of K-Cups from Amazon. Why? I don't know. All the other times Amazon has delivered my coffee, they've dropped it off by the garage door. It's hit or miss when it comes to post office deliveries but I can tell you, when I see that orange postcard, I get annoyed.

'Why is that?' I pondered, as I got out of my car to get into the long ass line inside the building. This, after some asshole stole my parking space that I sat waiting to turn into with my TURN SIGNAL on.

You know: guy pulls out of space, I need to turn left into the space; car approaches on the right and turns into it. Isn't that nice? Karma will get him but today, I was about to. I stormed out of my car (after getting a better space next to the building), getting ready to confront him when he turned around and gave me a 'good morning'. It was a fraction of a second before he said that, that I decided not to. I didn't need to rear the ugly head of my angry persona. I didn't return the act of his greeting though.

But this is not why I dread going to the post office.

My dread is that it always, always, always has a line. And to stand in that line, I feel just as common as the people around me are. In this day and age, why do I even have to be here?

And of course, the staff is < sarcasm > ever so pleasant < /sarcasm >. Today, I hit the place a little after 9AM. It opens at 8:30. Already, the two staff members (with a line going out the door) are pissed off looking and curt when they do the "next" call (and we all shuffle along like the trained animals we are).

As I stood waiting, I thought "how bad can this job be?" I mean seriously, I think it would be FUN. No, no sarcasm involved in the writing of that sentence. I mean it. Sorting mail? I would LOVE THAT.

When I was pregnant with both my girls, part of my nesting (I think) was sorting and distributing the mail at the workplace. I would try to time it so that I could get to the mail before the admins did, and plopped everyone's mail in their appropriate mail slot.

When I worked as a bank teller, sometimes I had the opportunity to open mail and sort through who gets what. LOVED IT. Sure, they were mainly checks for loans, but I loved it.

And when I worked accounts receivable at a home fashions manufacturing place, I too, got to sort through the mail of all the major companies that were in bankruptcy, sending what little they could to pay the bill.

So, why would that be such a chore that the staff - and it doesn't matter which post office you visit, the staff is stereotypically PISSED OFF AT YOU for mucking their day - would be so upset.

As I got closer to pissed off postal worker #2, I looked at the station area and had already formed in my head how I would organize it if I worked there. Where I would put all the pre-paid envelopes, receive receipts, even just trying to contemplate what a customer could possibly do to piss me off...and I could not think of one thing. Even the most disgruntled customer couldn't take the joy out of my day working as a postal person...at least, if they don't steal my parking space.

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