Have you had the pleasure of going to the post office to mail a package?
I had to get my package into the mail to my son in North Carolina.
The parking lot was full.
The line was to the back of the post office.
The line went past the exit so that you had to step out of the way in order to allow people to exit.
Two people took a box up and sat it down in front of the mail man.
The mail man says "you need to tape this up. It needs an address and a return address."
The lady says "you don't put a sticker on it for us?" I think these people don't know how to write.
The mailman says "I've got priority mail and first class stickers. Which one do you want?"
Then the lady says "how much?"
The mail man says "do you have a zip code for me?"
She fumbles in her purse, finds a piece of paper and tells him the zip code.
Then they quibble over first class or priority.
Then he gives them a roll of tape and tells them to step out of line.
After a couple more customers, a red headed man in a suit steps to the same mail man's window.
His box isn't taped, either.
It is in a USPS priority mailing box.
The mail man gets another roll of tape and says "get out of line and tape this up."
The red head rips off a piece of tape and sticks it on the top of the box.
"There, he says, it is ready."
The mail man shakes his head and says "o.k."
An African-American man in line a few back behind me chuckles and says "no moh line for him, he be done wid the line!"
The mailman says "do you want priority? You have this in a priority box."
The red head says "whatever. Tell me what I owe you."
After a couple more people, it is my turn.
I step up, put my box on the counter and say "look at that, all taped up, return address, mailing address. I'm ready."
The mail man never breaks character. At 7:30 a.m. he is pissed.
He starts rattling off his spiel "anything breakable, perishable, blah, blah, blah."
Then he told me if I wanted it guaranteed by the next day it would be fifty dollars.
I shook my head no.
Then he told me two to three days would be thirteen dollars.
Then he asked me if I wanted to pay so they would sign for it.
I said "they will let me know when it gets there."
Then he told me that my hand-made Christmas cards are too fat and they will be twenty cents extra.
I say "I make my own and get carried away." I think I may have seen a faint smile at that point. Grouchy, grouchy, grouchy. I stood there and thought do you have any idea how many people would love to have your job?
If you're happy and you know it clap your hands...
C'mon, people, it is Christmas.
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