Lessons in Frustration
Yesterday I had a great day until 2:30. After that every ounce of shit hit the fan at work. I left work with relief, all I had to do was stop by the post office before I went home to relax. I needed to mail off Mother's Day items or I'd be in the dog house come Sunday.
The post office has two entrances but only one exit (due to the drop-off boxes). I was a bit annoyed that so many cars were there. I knew there would be a wait. I walked in and took my number (68, missed it by one), then I assessed the situation. As usual there were only two ladies tending to the counter. Why do they even bother to build four stations, in every post office I've ever been to only two people work the front desk at any given time. Anyway, one teller was busy with an old lady and the other was finishing up with her customer.
Waiting in line with me was a mother with three young kids, a fat guy with nothing in his hands, a couple dressed in the same blue shirts (I hate that), another lady in white, and the lady who came in behind me (Mrs. 69). The lady at one counter finished up her business and the young twin-couple was next. "We need to get passports," they giggle.
If any of you have ever been at a post office when passport papers are being processed you know it takes For. Ev. Er.
That left one teller.
The old lady was having a problem, seems the address she wanted to ship her package to was incomplete. Of 'course, the old bag herself needed to be told this five times before it finally sunk into her gray head.
During this time two more people came into the office while Mrs. 69 left in disgust. The three kids were whining about something when the lady I like to call "The Freak" burst into the post office.
"Iiiiiiiii gotta be meeeeeeee," she's singing at the top of her lungs. "Isn't it a glorious day to be at the post office," she sings. "C'mon everybody, let's sing about being at the post office." This gets the kids excited and soon we have ourselves a little show. "Sing along, every one," The Freak yells.
The old lady decides to buy something instead of leave. It's only $.87. So she has to reeeeeeeach into her purse, pullllllllll out her pocketbook, open the pocket book, dig around for a dollar, close the pocketbook, put the pocketbook back into her purse, give the dollar to the mail lady, get her change, dig around in her purse again, take the pocketbook back out, put the change inside, then put the pocketbook...well, you get the idea.
The Freak has launched into a soliloquy about stress management now that the fat guy's egging her on.
The couple is still processing their passports. The lady in white has left in disgust.
FINALLY the old bag shuffles away and the fat guy is next in line. He needs to see if package arrived. It hasn't. You think that would be the end. Oh no, Fat Guy's on a mission.
"Haven't seen you around lately, Pearl."
"I've been on vacation."
"Oh yeah? Where'd you go?"
"Montana. Do you need anything else?"
"I hear Montana is a nice place to live. Is it?"
"I don't know, I was only visiting. Do you need anything else?"
"I've been to Colorado once, ever been ski-"
"Do you need anything else?"
Browny points for Pearl, she shakes the fat guy off and calls the next number, 66. No one answers. I don't see the lady with the kids anymore and The Freak was behind me so I assume I am next.
We all know what happens when we assume. I dart past The Freak to get to the counter when out of nowhere the mother and her brats jump me.
"I was next," she screams.
I managed to be pleasant. After all, I was in the wrong. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you had left."
She's all attitude now, "Well, I didn't."
Me, full of venom, "Well, I'm not psychic."
The bitch with the kids does her thing and I crowd her as much as I can. The Freak is behind me looking for a playmate now that the bitch's kids are occupied. Bitch gets done and it is FINALLY my turn. While I am mailing off my stuff the twin couple finally finishes up with their passports and leaves.
Pearl was so nice and efficient, I want to thank her for that.
I get into my car and get behind the Echo that holds the twin couple and wouldn't you just know it they need to make a left. Making a left onto Big Bend during rush hour is near impossible. I just want to go home!
There was no honking, no pointing, no yelling out the window, just me quietly having a conniption fit in my car. Twin boy must have seen this in his rear view mirror because when he could turn he did so as slowly as he possibly could - just to piss me off.
Bad move. I snapped. I floored it with every intention of ramming his little Echo into the gas station across the street. I wasn't thinking of hurting others or possible jail time, I just wanted to end the lives of those two people. Lucky for him he sped up enough to avoid sudden death. I made it home without another incident.
I don't know about you, but in my world post offices no longer exist.
When I did get home I found that our dog tore through our juice bottles. Seems he liked to bite into them because liquid squirted out. and if he shook his head back and forth the liquid went everywhere. Orange juice and fruit punch for everyone!
The post office has two entrances but only one exit (due to the drop-off boxes). I was a bit annoyed that so many cars were there. I knew there would be a wait. I walked in and took my number (68, missed it by one), then I assessed the situation. As usual there were only two ladies tending to the counter. Why do they even bother to build four stations, in every post office I've ever been to only two people work the front desk at any given time. Anyway, one teller was busy with an old lady and the other was finishing up with her customer.
Waiting in line with me was a mother with three young kids, a fat guy with nothing in his hands, a couple dressed in the same blue shirts (I hate that), another lady in white, and the lady who came in behind me (Mrs. 69). The lady at one counter finished up her business and the young twin-couple was next. "We need to get passports," they giggle.
If any of you have ever been at a post office when passport papers are being processed you know it takes For. Ev. Er.
That left one teller.
The old lady was having a problem, seems the address she wanted to ship her package to was incomplete. Of 'course, the old bag herself needed to be told this five times before it finally sunk into her gray head.
During this time two more people came into the office while Mrs. 69 left in disgust. The three kids were whining about something when the lady I like to call "The Freak" burst into the post office.
"Iiiiiiiii gotta be meeeeeeee," she's singing at the top of her lungs. "Isn't it a glorious day to be at the post office," she sings. "C'mon everybody, let's sing about being at the post office." This gets the kids excited and soon we have ourselves a little show. "Sing along, every one," The Freak yells.
The old lady decides to buy something instead of leave. It's only $.87. So she has to reeeeeeeach into her purse, pullllllllll out her pocketbook, open the pocket book, dig around for a dollar, close the pocketbook, put the pocketbook back into her purse, give the dollar to the mail lady, get her change, dig around in her purse again, take the pocketbook back out, put the change inside, then put the pocketbook...well, you get the idea.
The Freak has launched into a soliloquy about stress management now that the fat guy's egging her on.
The couple is still processing their passports. The lady in white has left in disgust.
FINALLY the old bag shuffles away and the fat guy is next in line. He needs to see if package arrived. It hasn't. You think that would be the end. Oh no, Fat Guy's on a mission.
"Haven't seen you around lately, Pearl."
"I've been on vacation."
"Oh yeah? Where'd you go?"
"Montana. Do you need anything else?"
"I hear Montana is a nice place to live. Is it?"
"I don't know, I was only visiting. Do you need anything else?"
"I've been to Colorado once, ever been ski-"
"Do you need anything else?"
Browny points for Pearl, she shakes the fat guy off and calls the next number, 66. No one answers. I don't see the lady with the kids anymore and The Freak was behind me so I assume I am next.
We all know what happens when we assume. I dart past The Freak to get to the counter when out of nowhere the mother and her brats jump me.
"I was next," she screams.
I managed to be pleasant. After all, I was in the wrong. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you had left."
She's all attitude now, "Well, I didn't."
Me, full of venom, "Well, I'm not psychic."
The bitch with the kids does her thing and I crowd her as much as I can. The Freak is behind me looking for a playmate now that the bitch's kids are occupied. Bitch gets done and it is FINALLY my turn. While I am mailing off my stuff the twin couple finally finishes up with their passports and leaves.
Pearl was so nice and efficient, I want to thank her for that.
I get into my car and get behind the Echo that holds the twin couple and wouldn't you just know it they need to make a left. Making a left onto Big Bend during rush hour is near impossible. I just want to go home!
There was no honking, no pointing, no yelling out the window, just me quietly having a conniption fit in my car. Twin boy must have seen this in his rear view mirror because when he could turn he did so as slowly as he possibly could - just to piss me off.
Bad move. I snapped. I floored it with every intention of ramming his little Echo into the gas station across the street. I wasn't thinking of hurting others or possible jail time, I just wanted to end the lives of those two people. Lucky for him he sped up enough to avoid sudden death. I made it home without another incident.
I don't know about you, but in my world post offices no longer exist.
When I did get home I found that our dog tore through our juice bottles. Seems he liked to bite into them because liquid squirted out. and if he shook his head back and forth the liquid went everywhere. Orange juice and fruit punch for everyone!
posted by Barbarian02003 | Thursday, May 10, 2007
1 Comments:
I NEVER go into the post office anymore for the reasons you just described. Luckily, all of my family lives locally. I would rather drive the package to them than go into the idiot's den that is the Post Office.
It’s number two on the dumb ass useless list (DAUL) after the DMV. Now we don’t have to go into the DMV anymore because we can do it all on-line.
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