...if my mail carrier actually tried to deliver registered letters instead of shoving the you-can-pick-it-up-tomorrow postcard into the mailbox. I was home, my car was even in the driveway, but apparently it was too much trouble to get out of the vehicle.
When I went to retrieve the letter today, there were two customers chatting endlessly with two tellers. Actually the postal workers were doing most of the blathering. One conversation centered on all permutations of holding mail or forwarding it for as long as a year. Clearly the old man was one of the annoying snowbirds that descends on the town as if he owns it each summer. At the other register, a postman was going on forever about construction and plumbing. His customer was a woman draped over the counter. I flicked my postcard against my thigh with escalating irritation.
It's small town post office, so there's no structure to the line. Sometimes people form lines for each register, sometimes they stand in the middle to catch whoever's free next. I was trying to do the latter, but was to the side some because of an old woman trying to fold a box together with little success.
Just as the old snowbird finally understood his options after hearing them repeated several times, a guy breezed in and stood behind him with a stack of certified letters to send. I couldn't quite bring myself to say, "Hey, I'm next," while cutting in front of the guy because it would have made me seem like one of the rude city tourists that invades during the summer. Instead I glowered at the plumber talking guy who refused to acknowledge my presence.
When I finally got my letter, it was precisely the same one I'd gotten two days earlier from my storage/moving company, except that this one was certified. Gggrrr.
Why is the post office such a source of frustration? It's a simple concept, and yet it causes so many headaches. Remember how I bitched about my credit card bills disappearing? The vanishing act has now spread to my monthly copy of Esquire. It makes one feel quite defeated... :-/
ReplyDeleteDude, that sucks. And yet... that you subscribe to Esquire has made me chuckle. ;]
ReplyDeleteOh, I don't know. Smashing heads into the counter repeatedly sounds more satisfying. ;]
ReplyDeleteI remember having the post office take care of my mail for me on account of a five week holiday I was taking.
ReplyDeleteWhen I got back I found they had amongst the rest of my mail, taken care of notes *from the post office* letting me know I had a recommendated (official) letter waiting for me.
And they had taken care of the warning notes (the come-get-it-now-or-we-will-return-it notes) and finally the letter was returned to sender on account of my not retrieving it in time...
This they took care of for me, because they knew I was away, but the important letter, oh, well, that was an other department...
Ooh, that's infuriating. I suppose temporary forwarding would be the way to go... if you'd had an address you'd be at. Or someone to pick up mail for you, though undoubtedly they would'nt have been able to sign for the one piece of mail you really needed. Doh.
ReplyDelete