Post Office Hell

I hate going to the post office. I avoid it like the plague. Yesterday's incident reminded me how much I hate going there. I needed to return a Christmas gift for my husband that I ordered through a magazine. I would have used UPS instead for the return to avoid the post office, but the address was a PO box and UPS does not deliver to PO boxes. Shit.

Here's the scenario: My daughter and I walk through the front door of the post office to be met by a long line. There are two windows open with clerks out of the 6 windows. There are countless postal employees lolly-gagging about in the background doing I'm not exactly sure what, but it did not appear to be productive.

As we patiently waited our turn and got closer to the front of the line I recognized the two postal clerks. One is an older Chinese guy and you can't understand anything he says, and the other is a nasty-tempered guy who actually speaks English you can understand. Window clerk lottery -- just which one will I get? I knew that I was going to be a loser no matter if I wound up at window #1, or window #2.

I ended up with the nasty-tempered English speaking guy. The package I needed to be returned was a little awkward, and I needed help in making sure I had it addressed and packaged correctly. I'm not sure what the rules/protocal are, so that's why I waited in line to get help from a window clerk. Otherwise, I would have slapped some postage on it and shoved it in a mailbox to avoid any interaction with these government sponsored intellectual midgets.

When my daughter and I approached the window, I told him that I needed help in getting the package off. Mr. Sunshine immediately took a tone with me and told me that the package did not meet post office standards. He was obviously annoyed. So, I asked him what would be appropriate. Again, Mr. Sunshine took a tone and started rattling off some internal post office jargon that I half-way understood. I stood there for a moment trying to digest what he said. He then threw some forms/stickers at me and told me that he had tend to other customers.

Stunned, I moved over to the side and guessed at what stickers/forms go where as he called the next patron to the window. I made my best guess and handed it back to him. I thought he was rude to abandon me in the middle of a transaction, so I returned the favor. He looked at me like a deer caught in the headlights. I think he got the hint that I was losing patience....

I swear, postal employees would not be able to hold jobs in the private sector. This is socialism at its worst.