will fight for certified mail
May. 14th, 2003 11:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fearlesstempI totally fought with the Post Office today. It was wild!
What happened was, after a long afternoon of boring yet hectic and stressful work activities, I ended up racing over to the post office a few minutes before the doors were supposed to lock at 5:30. I got there before 5:30. I KNOW I did. I know because my watch said so! As did the watches of people around me, who were also standing by the door all dismayed and confused, muttering, "But I have two minutes!"
But it was locked! Because they had CLOSED EARLY! How dare they?? I mean, I'm all for people ducking out early (I would do so myself more often if I could get away with it), but! You're the post office! You have a sacred duty! Or, you know, federally mandated hours! How dare you not honor that?
I stood there all pathetic and sad, clutching my three huge envelopes that needed only a certified stamp on their receipts, waiting for someone to leave the post office (because I could see people inside, filling out envelopes and the like, which was frustrating because they were taking SO LONG and my thing would only take, literally, three seconds!) so I could sneak in when they opened the door. And then they tried to leave and they couldn't, because it was locked from the inside too, and they had to be let out by the postman.
I practically tackled him when he opened the door. "Canyoupleasecertifythese?" I said, shoving the envelopes at him, my expression of frantic desperation 100% genuine.
"Nope," he said.
"No?" I exclaimed. And I did exclaim it because! Dude! It's a STAMP. He doesn't have to weigh, post, calculate, exchange money, nothing! Just stamp!
"Nope," he said again, and tried to close the door on me.
And here's where I normally would give up. But I was possessed by some otherwordly force and found myself blurting out, "But it's not 5:30! I need these certified!"
And then the guy shoved his watch in my face, which said it was almost 5:35 (SO inaccurate, dude. My watch is traditionally set fast and it was just 5:30 by mine), and so I said, "Well, okay, but I've been here for almost five minutes. I got here before 5:30 and I need these certified!"
Stony glare.
I took stock of my remaining weapons and decided that it was time to cast aside that heavy burden that was holding me down: self-respect. I begged. I was pathetic. And I probably didn't really NEED them certified today, but DAMMIT! He was WRONG! He CLOSED EARLY! And I was not going to let him GET AWAY WITH IT!
And so finally he let me in and gave me dirty looks and made mean comments. He was all, "You really should get here earlier," and I was all, "Well, you really shouldn't close early." Okay. So I didn't say that. Because then he certainly wouldn't have certified my mail, and likely would have tossed it in the garbage instead of the post box. Instead I was all, "It's not my fault!" and he was all, "Well, it's SOMEBODY'S fault" and I felt like geez, I'm not asking you to cut your arm off or something, just to stamp three tiny sheets of paper! Chill, buddy! Help a girl out!
Grr!
Anyway. I emerged triumphant with my little receipts in hand and they better GD appreciate it tomorrow.
And now, we sleep.
What happened was, after a long afternoon of boring yet hectic and stressful work activities, I ended up racing over to the post office a few minutes before the doors were supposed to lock at 5:30. I got there before 5:30. I KNOW I did. I know because my watch said so! As did the watches of people around me, who were also standing by the door all dismayed and confused, muttering, "But I have two minutes!"
But it was locked! Because they had CLOSED EARLY! How dare they?? I mean, I'm all for people ducking out early (I would do so myself more often if I could get away with it), but! You're the post office! You have a sacred duty! Or, you know, federally mandated hours! How dare you not honor that?
I stood there all pathetic and sad, clutching my three huge envelopes that needed only a certified stamp on their receipts, waiting for someone to leave the post office (because I could see people inside, filling out envelopes and the like, which was frustrating because they were taking SO LONG and my thing would only take, literally, three seconds!) so I could sneak in when they opened the door. And then they tried to leave and they couldn't, because it was locked from the inside too, and they had to be let out by the postman.
I practically tackled him when he opened the door. "Canyoupleasecertifythese?" I said, shoving the envelopes at him, my expression of frantic desperation 100% genuine.
"Nope," he said.
"No?" I exclaimed. And I did exclaim it because! Dude! It's a STAMP. He doesn't have to weigh, post, calculate, exchange money, nothing! Just stamp!
"Nope," he said again, and tried to close the door on me.
And here's where I normally would give up. But I was possessed by some otherwordly force and found myself blurting out, "But it's not 5:30! I need these certified!"
And then the guy shoved his watch in my face, which said it was almost 5:35 (SO inaccurate, dude. My watch is traditionally set fast and it was just 5:30 by mine), and so I said, "Well, okay, but I've been here for almost five minutes. I got here before 5:30 and I need these certified!"
Stony glare.
I took stock of my remaining weapons and decided that it was time to cast aside that heavy burden that was holding me down: self-respect. I begged. I was pathetic. And I probably didn't really NEED them certified today, but DAMMIT! He was WRONG! He CLOSED EARLY! And I was not going to let him GET AWAY WITH IT!
And so finally he let me in and gave me dirty looks and made mean comments. He was all, "You really should get here earlier," and I was all, "Well, you really shouldn't close early." Okay. So I didn't say that. Because then he certainly wouldn't have certified my mail, and likely would have tossed it in the garbage instead of the post box. Instead I was all, "It's not my fault!" and he was all, "Well, it's SOMEBODY'S fault" and I felt like geez, I'm not asking you to cut your arm off or something, just to stamp three tiny sheets of paper! Chill, buddy! Help a girl out!
Grr!
Anyway. I emerged triumphant with my little receipts in hand and they better GD appreciate it tomorrow.
And now, we sleep.
