Post Office Blues
D forced me to accompany him to the neighborhood post office this weekend. I almost died a thousand deaths. I despise our neighborhood post office. It smells of mothballs and Polident, and you have to take a fucking PAPER TICKET with a number printed on it and wait your turn like in the 1950’s or something. No line, no organization, just a trillion absent-minded peeps waiting around for their number to be called. Total bullshit.
Why am I so passionate about being forced to visit our crappy post office? Well, mainly because if you drive an extra 5 minutes from our home, you can experience the NEW FABULOUS Post Office, which doesn’t smell like Polident! And has an AUTOMATED POSTAL MACHINE! As Ferris would say, it is sooo choice. I can walk in, walk up to a machine, place my package on the scale and do all of my business with an automated teller. Need insurance or delivery confirmation? No problem. Oversized package? Bring it on. This machine does everything a postal worker could do minus the stinky postal worker breath in my face. Just me and the machine. And the best part? Everyone is scared to use it! Like it’s going to sprout teeth and eat them in one big munch. Over the holidays, I would shimmy past thirty to forty people standing in line, straight up to my shiny automated friend and get down to business. The people in line would look at me, and then at each other, thinking, “What is she doing over there?”, “Can I do that?”, “Oh, I’m afraid. It might sprout monster teeth and eat me”. I would finish in about 3 minutes, turn around, look at the line that hadn’t moved one inch, and smirk. Yes, I am the smirky girl at the post office, but C’MON! How could you not smirk at forty oblivious suckahs standing in line with their packages for days on end!
One day, an older gentleman summoned the courage to saunter over and check out what I was doing. He said something to the effect of “Oh, you youngins and your computers…I wish I could do that.”
Um, it’s a fucking touch screen, not a complex code of software engineering. Good God.
Hey, not that I’m complaining. I hope the majority of Americans never learn how to use the automated teller, thus ensuring many more pleasant days at the United States Post Office. Peace.