Going Postal
Today was One of Those Days. I felt it from the second I got up. Even though I didn't get up late, I was still running behind. I found that what was really driving me nuts today was absolutely anything and everything, which made me realize that I was lacking patience today. This is never good for a Monday, let alone the Monday before school vacation, let alone a week before Christmas. I found this out the hard way.
After a really annoying day at school with the "children," all I wanted to do was mail my Christmas cards. I know, I know, it's already December 18th, but whatever. They're going out. And I figured, if I got them out today, people could have them by, at the latest, the end of the week. So I figured that at 3 PM, the post office would not be busy.
I figured dead wrong.
The line was almost out the door when I got there. I can't say "when I got inside," because I had not even entered the building before I was already having issues. Normally, I can at least get in the building before I start sparring with morons.
Well, today, I couldn't even get inside. Apparently, with all the issues of "terrorist threats" in the mail system, they take post OFFICE security pretty seriously. You know how those detector things at the entrances of stores are jokes? Those things buzz off for any old reason, to the point that nobody ever stops you anymore. It's ridiculous. It's like a commonly accepted thing: the detector will buzz as a false alarm, and so nobody from the store bothers going to check on the customer. This happens to me all the time because the Gap sews its sensors into clothes in the weirdest spots. I'm always forgetting to search for them (can't put them in an obvious place, can you, Gap?!) and so I set off those detectors like it's my job. Aside from the momentary, "Jesus Christ, that's loud," it's not too much of an inconvenience because NOBODY CHECKS anything anymore.
Well, nobody except post office workers.
As I walked into the place today, the buzzers went off. I slapped my forehead - literally - and said to myself, "Shit!" as I realized I was wearing new jeans that probably still had the sensor tag behind my knee or something. I figured it was no big deal and I went to get in line.
"EXCUSE ME!" SCREAMED some random post office guy. His name was Randall. I kid you not. Randall.
I looked over at Randall.
"Yes, you. You in the kelly green sweater." (Yes, he said "kelly green." I think it was more of an evergreen, but I didn't want to start with Randall.)
"Umm, yes?"
"You set off the sensor."
"Oh, yeah," I said. I probably looked pretty surprised, since this is the first time someone's come over to check on a sensor going off. I couldn't fault him for this. Yet.
"Well, you can't come in the post office until we figure out what's buzzing."
"What?"
"You can't come in. You set off the sensor."
"Are you kidding?"
"Miss, we don't kid around at the post office."
"So you are seriously telling me that I cannot come in the post office today?"
"Why'd you set off the sensor, miss?" (Now, don't you think, Randall, that it would have been more customer-friendly and effective to begin the conversation with this, rather than the incendiary "You are not coming in the post office!" edict? I think so.)
"I think I set it off because of my clothes," I said. "The Gap has this ridiculous habit of sewing their sensors into their clothes in hard to find spots."
"I don't think that's ridiculous," said Randall. For some reason, this comment sticks out to me as THE comment, as in, THE comment when I had this feeling that Randall was going to be a problem for me.
"Well," I continued, "the point is, they're not in the obvious 'you have to take this off before wearing' spots, so I sometimes forget."
"Doesn't that create a little problem for you," he said and clucked.
"Well, not usually," I admitted. "You're actually the first person who's checked!" I said this with a friendly "can you believe that?" attitude, but I don't think Randall's IQ allowed him to fully grasp my "tone." Instead, I think he was focusing on understanding the words.
"And why don't they?" he asked.
"Umm, I don't know," I said. At this point, about five people had walked into the post office, buzzer free, and gone ahead of me in line. I brought this up to Randall.
"Can't let you in the post office until we figure out what's setting off the buzzer," he said.
"But I told you what is."
"You're going to have to remove the sensor before you come in," he said. "It's for national security."
Maybe this was not the best move, but when he said this, I laughed.
"I can't do that," I said to him. "It's in my jeans."
Poor Randall actually looked perplexed.
"What are you trying to do at the post office today?" he asked me.
I was tempted to answer, "You mean besides posing a threat to national security?" but I refrained. I didn't think that would get me any closer to accomplishing my goal.
"I want to send out my Christmas cards, but I don't have enough stamps," I told him.
"Fine," he said. "Give me the cash and I'll go get you a book of stamps." Randall was a moron, yes, but not an asshole. This gave me some hope, and so I gave him the cash and I didn't argue and I didn't go inside. I gave Randall $21.07 and he gave me several books of stamps. I was just thinking that I should always go to the Post Office with something on me that will set off the buzzer so that I can get this special treatment. That is, until after I had stamped all my envelopes and given them back to Randall and watched him deposit them in the mailbox.
"And next time!" he yelled at me as I was walking away from him (I mean, SERIOUSLY, I was fairly far away, he had to yell), "Don't forget to take the sensor out of your pants before you try to come to the Post Office!!"
That was fucking embarrassing. Thanks a lot, Randall.
After a really annoying day at school with the "children," all I wanted to do was mail my Christmas cards. I know, I know, it's already December 18th, but whatever. They're going out. And I figured, if I got them out today, people could have them by, at the latest, the end of the week. So I figured that at 3 PM, the post office would not be busy.
I figured dead wrong.
The line was almost out the door when I got there. I can't say "when I got inside," because I had not even entered the building before I was already having issues. Normally, I can at least get in the building before I start sparring with morons.
Well, today, I couldn't even get inside. Apparently, with all the issues of "terrorist threats" in the mail system, they take post OFFICE security pretty seriously. You know how those detector things at the entrances of stores are jokes? Those things buzz off for any old reason, to the point that nobody ever stops you anymore. It's ridiculous. It's like a commonly accepted thing: the detector will buzz as a false alarm, and so nobody from the store bothers going to check on the customer. This happens to me all the time because the Gap sews its sensors into clothes in the weirdest spots. I'm always forgetting to search for them (can't put them in an obvious place, can you, Gap?!) and so I set off those detectors like it's my job. Aside from the momentary, "Jesus Christ, that's loud," it's not too much of an inconvenience because NOBODY CHECKS anything anymore.
Well, nobody except post office workers.
As I walked into the place today, the buzzers went off. I slapped my forehead - literally - and said to myself, "Shit!" as I realized I was wearing new jeans that probably still had the sensor tag behind my knee or something. I figured it was no big deal and I went to get in line.
"EXCUSE ME!" SCREAMED some random post office guy. His name was Randall. I kid you not. Randall.
I looked over at Randall.
"Yes, you. You in the kelly green sweater." (Yes, he said "kelly green." I think it was more of an evergreen, but I didn't want to start with Randall.)
"Umm, yes?"
"You set off the sensor."
"Oh, yeah," I said. I probably looked pretty surprised, since this is the first time someone's come over to check on a sensor going off. I couldn't fault him for this. Yet.
"Well, you can't come in the post office until we figure out what's buzzing."
"What?"
"You can't come in. You set off the sensor."
"Are you kidding?"
"Miss, we don't kid around at the post office."
"So you are seriously telling me that I cannot come in the post office today?"
"Why'd you set off the sensor, miss?" (Now, don't you think, Randall, that it would have been more customer-friendly and effective to begin the conversation with this, rather than the incendiary "You are not coming in the post office!" edict? I think so.)
"I think I set it off because of my clothes," I said. "The Gap has this ridiculous habit of sewing their sensors into their clothes in hard to find spots."
"I don't think that's ridiculous," said Randall. For some reason, this comment sticks out to me as THE comment, as in, THE comment when I had this feeling that Randall was going to be a problem for me.
"Well," I continued, "the point is, they're not in the obvious 'you have to take this off before wearing' spots, so I sometimes forget."
"Doesn't that create a little problem for you," he said and clucked.
"Well, not usually," I admitted. "You're actually the first person who's checked!" I said this with a friendly "can you believe that?" attitude, but I don't think Randall's IQ allowed him to fully grasp my "tone." Instead, I think he was focusing on understanding the words.
"And why don't they?" he asked.
"Umm, I don't know," I said. At this point, about five people had walked into the post office, buzzer free, and gone ahead of me in line. I brought this up to Randall.
"Can't let you in the post office until we figure out what's setting off the buzzer," he said.
"But I told you what is."
"You're going to have to remove the sensor before you come in," he said. "It's for national security."
Maybe this was not the best move, but when he said this, I laughed.
"I can't do that," I said to him. "It's in my jeans."
Poor Randall actually looked perplexed.
"What are you trying to do at the post office today?" he asked me.
I was tempted to answer, "You mean besides posing a threat to national security?" but I refrained. I didn't think that would get me any closer to accomplishing my goal.
"I want to send out my Christmas cards, but I don't have enough stamps," I told him.
"Fine," he said. "Give me the cash and I'll go get you a book of stamps." Randall was a moron, yes, but not an asshole. This gave me some hope, and so I gave him the cash and I didn't argue and I didn't go inside. I gave Randall $21.07 and he gave me several books of stamps. I was just thinking that I should always go to the Post Office with something on me that will set off the buzzer so that I can get this special treatment. That is, until after I had stamped all my envelopes and given them back to Randall and watched him deposit them in the mailbox.
"And next time!" he yelled at me as I was walking away from him (I mean, SERIOUSLY, I was fairly far away, he had to yell), "Don't forget to take the sensor out of your pants before you try to come to the Post Office!!"
That was fucking embarrassing. Thanks a lot, Randall.
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