Long time, no write
It's been forever, I know. With all that's happening in the world - Paul and Heather divorcing, Brangelina having their baby, the season-end of The Office and My Name Is Earl, and Britney's various dangerous baby-theatrics, who has time to write a blog? Anyway, I promise I'll be better. My goal is to write at least three times a week from now on. So, Stardate May 30, 2006, Captain's Log #1:
I went by the post office the other day to retrieve a package. For some reason, our mail carrier can't leave packages on our front deck if it is raining, slightly drizzling, looks like it might rain, is scheduled to rain sometime soon, or if there are any clouds in the sky. Instead, she leaves a little card that tells us we can pick up the package "the day after tomorrow". So, I left work a few minutes early and rushed over to the P.O., desperately hoping they wouldn't slam and lock the door in my face at 4:49 the way they had the last time I was there.
To tell the truth, the people who work at my P.O. are really nice. A little too nice. I stood in a line of about six people while one postal employee helped an older woman. The woman took her time in deciding how she wanted her package to be mailed, how she wanted to pay for the mailing, and how she needed to change the type of mailing to a cheaper way of mailing. Just as she was about to exit, the mail carrier asked her if she'd like to see the season's newest stamps. I shifted my weight impatiently from one foot to the next while the lady made comments like, "Oh, that's a pretty one! Oh, wait, that one will go with my pink envelopes. Do you have any with flowers? What about bees?"
In the meantime, a younger-looking guy stood at another part of the counter and worked industriously, signing mother's day cards. I couldn't believe they didn't tell him that a) he was way late for mother's day greetings, b) he needed to write his personal messages out in the lobby and stop wasting everyone's time, and c) the next time he needed to stand in a smallish-type space with about ten other people around, he might want to think about taking a shower.
The line wasn't moving. The lady standing in front of me began looking around desperately, as though she suddenly realized she'd misplaced a couple thousand bucks. In a last ditch effort, she began to comb through a supply of mailing boxes to our right. Then she swore softly under her breath and left the line. Yes! I wanted to pump my fist in post office victory. One down and five to go!
The next man in line looked to be about 90 and was using a walker and an oxygen tank. He wheezed and panted, gently swaying from side to side. Pretty Stamp Lady made her final selections, with the ever-courteous help of the postal employee, and left. "Can I help who's next?" called out the postal worker. Good lord. It was going to take Wheezer five years just to make it to the counter. But, with amazing rapidity, the old man wheezed and hacked his way to the front, the wheels of his walker bouncing jauntily along the ground, his oxygen tank swinging mightily to his side. I swore to myself I'd never again judge the old or infirm.
Twenty minutes later, I handed my slip of paper to the smiling lady behind the counter. She cheerfully retrieved my package from the back and then said, "You know, we'll always try to re-deliver these if we don't catch you at home the first time!"
Unless it looks like rain.
I went by the post office the other day to retrieve a package. For some reason, our mail carrier can't leave packages on our front deck if it is raining, slightly drizzling, looks like it might rain, is scheduled to rain sometime soon, or if there are any clouds in the sky. Instead, she leaves a little card that tells us we can pick up the package "the day after tomorrow". So, I left work a few minutes early and rushed over to the P.O., desperately hoping they wouldn't slam and lock the door in my face at 4:49 the way they had the last time I was there.
To tell the truth, the people who work at my P.O. are really nice. A little too nice. I stood in a line of about six people while one postal employee helped an older woman. The woman took her time in deciding how she wanted her package to be mailed, how she wanted to pay for the mailing, and how she needed to change the type of mailing to a cheaper way of mailing. Just as she was about to exit, the mail carrier asked her if she'd like to see the season's newest stamps. I shifted my weight impatiently from one foot to the next while the lady made comments like, "Oh, that's a pretty one! Oh, wait, that one will go with my pink envelopes. Do you have any with flowers? What about bees?"
In the meantime, a younger-looking guy stood at another part of the counter and worked industriously, signing mother's day cards. I couldn't believe they didn't tell him that a) he was way late for mother's day greetings, b) he needed to write his personal messages out in the lobby and stop wasting everyone's time, and c) the next time he needed to stand in a smallish-type space with about ten other people around, he might want to think about taking a shower.
The line wasn't moving. The lady standing in front of me began looking around desperately, as though she suddenly realized she'd misplaced a couple thousand bucks. In a last ditch effort, she began to comb through a supply of mailing boxes to our right. Then she swore softly under her breath and left the line. Yes! I wanted to pump my fist in post office victory. One down and five to go!
The next man in line looked to be about 90 and was using a walker and an oxygen tank. He wheezed and panted, gently swaying from side to side. Pretty Stamp Lady made her final selections, with the ever-courteous help of the postal employee, and left. "Can I help who's next?" called out the postal worker. Good lord. It was going to take Wheezer five years just to make it to the counter. But, with amazing rapidity, the old man wheezed and hacked his way to the front, the wheels of his walker bouncing jauntily along the ground, his oxygen tank swinging mightily to his side. I swore to myself I'd never again judge the old or infirm.
Twenty minutes later, I handed my slip of paper to the smiling lady behind the counter. She cheerfully retrieved my package from the back and then said, "You know, we'll always try to re-deliver these if we don't catch you at home the first time!"
Unless it looks like rain.
posted by SHANNON & AARON TUCKER at 4:02 PM
3 Comments:
AAAGGGHHH! This sounds SO familiar! Why does the Post Office have to be so hopelessly slow? I try to avoid the lines whenever possible, but find myself there more often than I'd like...Mucho sympathy!
And thanks for leaving a comment on my blog!
d - I try to avoid it, too, right down to buying my stamps at the grocery store! I try to use my work mail as much as possible, too.
peggy - I bet he had much more interesting stories! I hate that I missed really getting to meet him...
Too funny! Now try that with two kids. Blech! I don't know what it is about postal carriers in this area and the general lethargy they have toward ACTUALLY DELIVERING packages. Then, there's the UPS man, who just dropped a box at the end of our driveway the other day. I almost believe he just hurled it out the door as he drove by, in the name of speed and all...
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