» Way to be a walking stereotype, lady. Don’t Eat Off The Sidewalk!

Way to be a walking stereotype, lady.

I have two main choices for my post office needs: There’s one five minutes away from my house, but it’s always crowded, the clerks are slow and since the brah dude clerk who actually says “Rock n’ Roll!” when he takes my mail cut off his mullet, I have no reason to go there unless i’m just dropping off stamped stuff.

The other choice is the post office on base, which is twenty minutes away. They keep longer hours, they’re pretty efficient, and the male clerks are all nice and joking and pretend to be scared when I walk in with a box full of envelopes.

Except for one lady.

She is the stereotypical surly postal worker. There are some rules for dealing with her. One, do not smile. Two, do not ask her a question. Three, never make a joke. All will be met with eye rolls and sarcastic answers. Just say thank you and yes ma’am and you might get out of there without receiving shitty attitude. Unless of course, she’s in a bad mood, even moreso than usual.

Today, I had a stack of already stamped envelopes, two overseas, and five envelopes that I needed stamps for because I ran out. So I handed her the two overseas ones and after she rang them up she grabbed my already stamped envelopes and started weighing them too. I stamp them at home to save them time and trouble, but whatever. Finally I said, “Those are all the same.” Then she pointed to my return address label and told me that I needed to put my last name on there, because “they” don’t know who I am. So I said, “I thought a last name was only required on priority mail.” and she shook her head. That’s really weird because a) she’s the one who told me that and b) YOU TOOK THE REST OF MY ENVELOPES TWICE THIS WEEK WITHOUT A DAMN PEEP.

Then I asked her for some 58 cent stamps, three sheets. She rolled her eyes and went to the back to get them. Seriously, she rolls her eyes at everything. I fucking hate her. They didn’t have any sheets, so I said, “Okay, if you just have five stamps I can at least stamp these.” And she’s like, “I thought you said you needed three sheets!” I said, “I do, but if you don’t have sheets I can just stamp these.” Because it’s still faster for me to stamp them at the counter than it is for her to weigh them. God, i’m so courteous. What a pain in the ass.

Anyway, she seems to mostly work on Saturdays so i’m not mailing anything on Saturdays anymore. I know that some day i’m going to go in there really depressed about something and she’ll roll her eyes and sigh one too many times and i’ll burst into tears in the middle of the post office. And I kind of promised myself that I wouldn’t do that again. It’s embarassing!

posted: 07 November 17
under: life

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