Remember this postal worker? I had the pleasure of transacting business with her today. And when I say pleasure, I do not mean it.
I walked up to the counter, said hello (pleasantly), and told her I wanted to send my parcel priority mail with $25 insurance. Instead of asking me if I had anything liquid fragile, perishable, or hazardous1 in the mailer envelope, she said, “What have you got in there that’s worth $25?”
“It’s a photograph.”
“A photograph!?”
“Why are you insuring that?”
“Because it is valuable.”2
“So what’s it worth then?”
“Twenty-five dollars.” (Perhaps I said that a bit forcefully since everyone got really quiet in the post office.)
At this point she turns and walks to the door leading to the back of the vast, cavernous post office and yells at one of her colleagues to bring the new stamps up to the front. Because, I can only assume, there was a large, completely silent and invisible crowd of angry customers standing directly behind me waving knives and demanding the new stamps RIGHT NOW.
She wanders back a little while later and asks, “So how much did you want to insure this for? $50? $20?”
“Twenty-five dollars.”
“Oh.”
And then it was mercifully over.
1. Which I believe she is required, by law, to ask.
2. As in, it has a value of $25. Unless you are Karnak the Magnificent3 reincarnated and can discern the “true” (whatever that means) value of the contents of the mailer, shut the fuck up.
3. Oh, if only.
Comments (16)
I’d pay $30 for a photograph of that exchange.
You want to WHAT? Girl, I KNOW you don’t have anything worth $25… If you did you would be over there at the pawn shop right now selling it for $10! You come in here and tell me you want to insure a PHOTOGRAPH for $25? Get out of my Post Office!
Erik: Heh.
Angus: So you’ve met her, then?
God. What a stupid, stupid bitch.
When you linked to “this postal worker” I was half expecting a photo of a pissed off clerk. Like this: >:(
williac: She probably bent your photo too.
I would have told that woman that the worth of the content of my envelope was none of her damned business! God, I hate people like her. I lived around those kind all my young life…it makes me angry just to think of what a simple bitch she was to you!
Where is notated item #3? I don’t see notated item #3. I look forward to the UPDATED, CORRECTED version of this post, missy…..
and my spam word was “smartass”….heh.
And I’d like a latte, please.
Wait! Wait! I see it. His Royalness the Karnak.
I humbly apologize, and beg forgiveness for my profound retardation. No editing required, off with you then.
Where’s my latte?
Clearly you do not understand the role and purpose of the Postal Service. Where do customers get this whimsical notion that somehow it is all about THEM and what they need?
tracy: How do you really feel?
Trasherati: Heh.
Ogre: I think the word “service” is what throws me, see.
Well, someone IS getting serviced when you go in there.
Ogre: Har. Yes. That’s not the kind of service I go to the post office for, though.
Postal Service juxtaposes words that simply do not belong together. Other examples:
Modest Quarterback
Honest Politician
Credible Journalist
College Education
Utah Jazz
Toyota Corolla
Ogre: :D
Your anti-spam word trifling describes her. Every large post office has at least one person like this.
And that’s how I really feel …oh, and also that I’d like a latte’.
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