The post office was weird today. I was told by the manager to get into the "stamps and money order"
line because "all you want is stamps." Of course, what I said was "I
just need postage." Moments earlier, I'd seen her snap at customers who clearly knew they
were in the wrong line and were trying to switch into the correct line
quickly. "Don't cut in front of the people in front of you!" the
manager had admonished like a school teacher. I decided not to try to
clarify what I meant by "I just need postage" and trust that she knew
what was best for me. So, in the supposed "express line" I watched as the five people who
were *after* me in my old line got to a window before me. Then when I
got to the window the teller asked "how many stamps do you need?" "I don't know." "Sir, this is a stamps and money order ONLY line. There's a scale
over there." He nodded toward the other end of the room, so I wander
over to the scale to discover no buttons are working on the thing. I
tap them, they beep, but nothing shows up on the display of the scale. I get back in line, wait a while longer for another window, and end up
at the teller next to the guy who sent me to the scale. THAT guy
tells my new teller "ask him if he wants you to sing a song for him." My current teller asks me: "He wants to know if you want me to sing for you." I stammer for a moment wanting to be nice and friendly, but still
pissed off about standing in what was effectively the wrong line for
twenty minutes and then getting the wrong info from the manager. "Um, no?" I reply. They both laugh as my first teller says "Really? You don't want to
hear the donut song?" I grin, like a schmuck as I slide the envelope through the slot in the
window and say "I just want postage." "Ha! He said no," my current teller says smiling, adding: "I can't
accept this without a return address on it." She slides the envelope back and I quickly jot down my address. I
hear her repeat "He said no." I slide the envelope back through to her and she smiles. "I'm sorry,
I'm sorry, I know you just want your postage. I wasn't really going to
sing for you." I just smiled and shrugged. "Is anything in here dangerous, toxic, or perishable?" It's a *letter*... Like I said, weird visit to the post office.
line because "all you want is stamps." Of course, what I said was "I
just need postage." Moments earlier, I'd seen her snap at customers who clearly knew they
were in the wrong line and were trying to switch into the correct line
quickly. "Don't cut in front of the people in front of you!" the
manager had admonished like a school teacher. I decided not to try to
clarify what I meant by "I just need postage" and trust that she knew
what was best for me. So, in the supposed "express line" I watched as the five people who
were *after* me in my old line got to a window before me. Then when I
got to the window the teller asked "how many stamps do you need?" "I don't know." "Sir, this is a stamps and money order ONLY line. There's a scale
over there." He nodded toward the other end of the room, so I wander
over to the scale to discover no buttons are working on the thing. I
tap them, they beep, but nothing shows up on the display of the scale. I get back in line, wait a while longer for another window, and end up
at the teller next to the guy who sent me to the scale. THAT guy
tells my new teller "ask him if he wants you to sing a song for him." My current teller asks me: "He wants to know if you want me to sing for you." I stammer for a moment wanting to be nice and friendly, but still
pissed off about standing in what was effectively the wrong line for
twenty minutes and then getting the wrong info from the manager. "Um, no?" I reply. They both laugh as my first teller says "Really? You don't want to
hear the donut song?" I grin, like a schmuck as I slide the envelope through the slot in the
window and say "I just want postage." "Ha! He said no," my current teller says smiling, adding: "I can't
accept this without a return address on it." She slides the envelope back and I quickly jot down my address. I
hear her repeat "He said no." I slide the envelope back through to her and she smiles. "I'm sorry,
I'm sorry, I know you just want your postage. I wasn't really going to
sing for you." I just smiled and shrugged. "Is anything in here dangerous, toxic, or perishable?" It's a *letter*... Like I said, weird visit to the post office.
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