Meow House Theatre

While I was walking back from my guitar lesson today I took a header over a curb into a gravel patch. I have a new lovely hole in my soon-to-be-rubbish pants. At least they hid the blood running down my leg from the big gash on my knee. My knuckles are nice and cut up too. I didn’t get a mark on my face somehow. I must have hard skin.

Let’s see, what else happened today. Oh right, I told some harpy counter-clerk bitch in the post office who had been a snotty cunt for the whole time I was at the window (and not even at HER window but she’s mouthing off to me for god knows what reason) to fuck off and so she called the “police” and they threatened to arrest me for disturbing the peace. Apparently in the post office they’re so scared of former co-workers and assorted loonies from taking out their aggressions on them that they are allowed to treat the customers like shit but the customers sure as hell better not say a word. I think she thought I was going to run crying when she said she’d call the “police” but I told her to right ahead. So then two “police” officers showed up and acted like they were doing me a big fucking favor to not arrest me. Yeah I was really scared.

The whole thing started because when I got up to the head of the line for my turn I said it would be helpful if the post office put out in the lobby–in one of the six or seven supply areas–those little plastic windows that you put the paperwork in when you stick it on an Express envelope. Then people like me wouldn’t have to wait in line for 15 minutes (and that was SHORT) just to drop off a prepaid no-postmark-necessary letter. This suggestion (and I swear I started out this conversation in a pleasant manner) was met with a vapid dull-eyed expression that would make a cow look intelligent and the response, after the cogs in her brain turned a little through their layers of rust, “There’s no room out there for them.”

Me: “In this entire post office you can’t fit a stack of plastic envelopes?” [You could fit at least a hundred people in there, which they often do, with the way the line goes, and there are four free-standing supply counters, one wall of supplies, and another supply counter in the lobby.]

Turtle IQ: “No. There’s no place to put them. Everything has their place and there’s no room for them.”

Me: “Um … okay.”

And it went downhill from there when Brain Stem Only said I had to stand in line anyway because there was no date on the Web-produced paperwork. (Yes there was a date. I guess she needs glasses too.)

Me: “Well it’s the post office software on line that’s broken then; I’ve done a thousand the same way and they always are accepted and always are delivered.”

Lobotomy Test Case: “Well then you’ve been very lucky; you’ve been doing them wrong.”

No idiot you’ve been doing them wrong, you and the stupid fucking post office that has accepted literally hundreds of these same packages from me for years and delivered them all when they have been all “done wrong.”

Then as I was leaving, her cunt of a colleague who had been at the next window offering her own “helpful” commentary throughout my conversation with someone else made a final snotty bitch remark and that’s when I turned around (I was almost out the door) and said fuck off. Then the real fun began.

After the “police” left I told the supervisor that all I wanted to do was to suggest that they keep those plastic envelopes out and she, another candidate for a MacArthur Grant (NOT) repeated practically word for word the absurdity of there not being any room in the entire office for a stack of 5×7 envelopes (it must be written in block letters on a poster in the toilets), and further, “They’ve never been put out.”

Me: Oh, why is that?

Supervising Moron: “They just haven’t.”

Me: Um … is there a procedure required in order to just put them out then … you can’t just do it on your own?”

Apparent Concussion Victim: “I can look into it. We just never have.”

Me: ?????

I console myself by paraphrasing a great man: “they’re nowhere now and they’ll be nowhere when they die.”

Nothing generally against postal workers (and I was a civil servant myself a long time ago) although they do seem to have made that one branch the depository for the special-needs staff.

Anyway, I have the most fun, don’t I?

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 30th, 2008 at 9:09 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.