In general, I avoid my local post office. First of all, when we built our house we didn’t have postal service for a few months while we waited for our community mailbox to be installed. Which meant that all of our mail was held at the post office. Which meant that we had to go at least a few times a week to pick it up. Which meant that there were several other people in the same boat. Which meant that there were always long lines. Which meant that I always left there feeling kind of homicidal.
Perhaps I was spoiled by my last local post office. It was charming and efficient all at once. I don’t remember standing in line for more than a few minutes. Ever.
But those days were over once I moved. The line at my post office is always long. Always. And it never moves. I have actually attended three impromptu birthday parties and one funeral in that line.
There was only one time I went to the post office and the line was short. Two customers were being helped at the two open registers and there was only one(!) person in line in front of me. I was there to mail my brother-in-law’s Christmas present in mid-December and when I walked in and saw the lack of crowd, I nearly declared it a Christmas miracle. As it turned out, I was in that line for over thirty minutes. More than a half-hour. Behind one person. Listening to one of the cashiers discuss with his customer how the boundaries of the postal offices had changed over the last couple of years. Fascinating. I thought I might slam my head in the letter drop to relieve my frustration.
So, today, when I went to the post office to mail off the anti-winter CD mixes, I had low expectations. I took three ibuprofen and an entire bottle of St. John’s Wort before I left. When I got there, I worked as quickly as I could to pack and address my small mountain of padded envelopes before I got in line. When I saw two old ladies enter the doors, I grabbed my unfinished pile and ran to the line to make sure I had a place before them. I didn’t have time to give them CPR or dialysis if I got stuck behind them for three weeks.
By the time I was done addressing and stuffing, I was called to an open register. So far, so gooooood!
I made small talk with the cashier as he printed postage for each of my packages.
“Photos in these?” he asked.
“CDs actually,” I said.
“CDs,” he said.
“Yep,” I said.
“CDs are almost extinct, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, probably not too long.”
“I can’t stand the way technology works today. Everything is outdated within a year or two. Pretty soon I won’t be able to watch my old black-and-white TV. Everything is digital and there won’t be anymore analog.”
I had no idea if this was true, but I nodded and said, “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy.”
“It’s like the government has a conspiracy. We’re all forced to go out and buy the newest TVs just to get reception. And those new TVs,” he said as he peered over his reading glasses at me, “I bet they have cameras in them.”
Oh dear.
I gave a polite chuckle, just in case my postal worker friend was exhibiting his extremely dry sense of humor.
“I’m serious,” he said.
Of course he was.
He still had two envelopes to stamp, so I kept my cool and did my best to validate him. After all, if there’s anything I understand about postal employees, it’s this—keep them happy. I agreed that it was highly likely that there are cameras installed in all new TVs, that I’d heard it was true from several of the voices in my head and that I’d also read about it in the hidden code on the overhead menu at Wendy’s. (Sometimes living with a psychologist comes in SO handy. I speak pretty fluent paranoid schizophrenia.)
I walked out a few minutes later without incident, shaking my head at yet another local post office adventure. I mean, really! Hidden cameras in the TVs? Some people are so crazy!
I unlocked my door, checked under the car for any men with knives waiting to slice my ankles, got in, inspected the backseat for bombs, drove off, ran only two red lights to lose the car that was following me, and managed to show up right in time for my secret Sisters of the Protective Order meeting. I ran inside to avoid being noticed by the suspicious old woman across the street and to tell everybody about the crazy guy at the post office. I knew the gals would love that story!
I have a friend who got abducted by aliens, cuz the guvrment told the aliens to take him, cuz they’d been watching him for years through his TV. Don’t make any sudden moves; they’re watchin’ you through your laptop!
i swear…governemt workers are so ODD!! Where do they find these people?
You live with a psychologist too? Fun stuff, isn’t it?!
so funny!
I can’t even begin to tell you about my post office run-ins. It would take too long. Most of them took place at the main post office in Salt Lake which I believe is one of Dante’s levels of hell (#5 I think).
Now I do everything I can to avoid the place including telling my work mail room to go ahead and take the $2.29 (or whatever) out of my paycheck to mail this cd to my friend. For larger tasks I have created my own ups account online. It works wonders.
I’ve fallen in love with the UPS Store. I can send regular USPS there if I don’t want to pay UPS rates, and I think I’ve only ever had a line once. I feel like it’s my own little secret, but I’m sharing it with you. Just don’t spread the word too much, or then I’ll have to wait in line a lot more often. I can’t wait to get my c.d.! Thanks for making the trek to the post office.
I can’t stop laughing. See why I’m crazy? I’m married to a Postal employee. I can totally hear some of those comments coming from my husbands mouth. And yes, postal employees are weird. But I like mine. However, if everybody stops using the PO, Mike will lose his job and we’ll have to come live in your mansion with you. Did I mention I have 3 girls…yes three. Scary thought. So please support the PO for only 20 more years. Then he’ll be retired and you won’t have to worry about housing my poor family.
can i tell you how much i hate my post office?!! and they don’t have home delivery or even neighborhood delivery here. i have to go to my post office to get my mail. i used to go almost everyday. now i am lucky if i get there once a week…
There was a point in my life in which I dreamed of becoming a cashier at the post office. I wanted to put an end to the grumpy workers. The task seemed too big though. I decided to stick with speech therapy.
That is too funny. I love the conspiracy theorists!
Wait…
You don’t believe him? Where have you been? Everyone knows about those cameras! I mean, not to be mean or anything, but come on!
Oh, I’m so glad you checked under your car, and in the back seat! You just can never be too safe.
Oh, and about the cameras, I hear if you make a tin-foil hat, with some kind of antenae, that it totally messes up the reception, and they won’t be able to get a clear picture of you, OR HEAR YOU!
Hmmmm some of us use the secret cameras to our advantage ;0)
Oh dear, please be kind, Tiff, and put warning stickers on these blogs that are laugh-out-loud funny. Remember your aging mother has a nasty cough that magnifies unmercilously when she laughs.
I looove this post! So funny!
An entire bottle of St. John’s Wart?! That is a great idea!
Those kooky wacky postal workers. That system needs an overhaul, pronto!!
Hello…..um…where to begin??? Ok, I am actually NORMAL, but I know that we’ve got insane people that are cashiers in Sandy. I get to drive around all day and just think up conspiracy theories (boy, do I have a lot of them), and it doesn’t help that I listen to talk radio on the side. There are times that I find myself yelling at the radio (I mean, respectfully chastising the inanimate object). If I could write all of the stupid, insane, cockamame, crap that happens at the PO, I would get carpel-tunnel sydrome way before my time….so I don’t. I have them safely locked away in my memory, that is, until ‘memory dump’ at the end of the day. Then I get to fill it up with another day’s worth of antics. It’s too bad you don’t actually choose to go there everyday. As for me, I think that I have developed some sort of self-imposed therapy to be able to return day after day. Do you realize that you have to pass a certifiable IQ test to be able to work at the PO? Where DO we get our postal workers? Now, you’ve got me thinking that I’m crazy…..wait…..I hear them…..there coming to take me away…..to the funny farm….there going to take me away….hoho..heehee…where life is beautiful all the time….there coming to take me away….hoho..heehee.
BTW check out http://www.dtv2009.gov
I know someone else who has similar problems on a regular basis, although more related to stupidity and obnoxiousness than craziness: http://www.hillbillyplease.com/blog/?p=2227
Nothing worse than a crazy person from whom you need help. Very nice on the schizo impersonation though. No way I could have come up with that that quickly. I probably would have told him about the not-so-hidden camera in my iMac
Analog for Life!
I think that’s creative, video camera’s in the t.v…. You know, I just finished reading some Dan Brown books and I’m fascinated by the conspiracy theorists of the world. I think that if I start to get bored with life, I may become a conspiracy theorist, just for fun. Watch out for those cameras!!