I mailed my boys their Easter cards yesterday. My wonderful, talented girlfriend handmade two amazing cards, and I know they will love it.
But since the envelopes were a little thicker and heavier than the norm, it meant a trip to the post office.
It's been a while since I've gone to the post office, but I still know my way around. Unlike most younger adults these days, I had penpals when I was growing up, so I am used to mailing letters.
This day in the post office, there seemed to be two main types of people. Younger 'kids' who don't know JACK about mailing a letter or parcel, and women over 150. Talk about polarization.
I had an old lady in front of me, and an old lady behind me. Both had that fanTASTIC old-lady-perfume smell goin on. Different scents, same basic 'granny' smell. You know, cheap roses? It was like gag-fest 2011. In stereo.
The geezer in front of me was about 4 feet tall, and had about a 4 foot stack of mail needing to be sent out. When you see this, and only one person helping customers, you get a lump in your stomach. This is going to take a while.
But she wasn't the real problem. It was the lady behind me.
|I swear, she looked exactly like this!|
This 500lb mouth-breathing sea hag, for some reason, decided that she needed to be 6 inches from the back of my neck. Granted, the line was a long one, but you can allow a little bit of breathing room between people.
And when I say breathing room, I mean stop mouth-breathing on the back of my neck. First off, you sound like a congested Darth Vader. Second, you're melting the little hairs on the back of my neck with your hot, rancid 'I just ate a WHOLE BAG of Funyuns' breath.
Ahead of me and the geriatrics were a handful of teenagers and early 20-somethings trying to figure out how a post office works.
|Hey. Kids. Know what this is? They didn't...|
We are now in the age of instant gratification. People these days don't seem to understand that mail takes a few days to travel from one end of the country to the other. And if you want it there super-fast, you're going to have to pay for it. Things like 'Priority Mail, Certified, Insured, Return Receipt' were like speaking gibberish to people. And when you mentioned these services would cost extra, people flip.
Cmon, this isn't like checking a box on the email, letting you know when the recipient read your letter. It's a little more complicated than that.
|CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?|
BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE CAN!!!
Lastly was a dude, probably about 17, who didn't have a clue about cell phone etiquette. He enters an enclosed, metal building, full of people. His reception gets fuzzy. What do? I know! SHOUT!
"HEY, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
"IS THIS BETTER?"
"WHAT ABOUT NOW?"
"OH THERE YOU ARE. OK, AS I WAS SAYING..."
Everyone wanted this guy dead. The air was getting thicker, filling with murderous intent, when it was finally my turn.
No surprise, but I did what I had to do, and got out of there as quickly as possible.