All he asked was, "Could you deliver this sometime this morning?"
My husband had packaged up some novels to be mailed to a bookstore.
I had about five errands to run before my ten o'clock appointment, but what the heck, I'm a team player.
"Sure I'll make a quick stop at the post office," I replied, knowing it was never a quick stop there.
I ran a few errands and made my way to the Post Office.
"Please let there be a parking spot," I mumbled, as I rounded the corner and checked my watch.
There was, but it was on the other side of the street. There was no-where to turn around.
I circled the block like a mad woman and just as I returned a car was pulling in.
I circled the block again. This time there was a spot, but I was going to have to rely on my parallel parking skills, something I avoid whenever possible. I pulled up beside the car and started to reverse, carefully watching the front of the car behind me. I noticed a teenager wearing headphones, sitting expressionless and half asleep, watching me. He looked from me to the front of the car behind me, to the rear of my car, and then back to me.
Would you not think he might have given me the wave, you know, like you can back up a little more, or STOP, you're about to smash into the car behind you?
But, no, he just sat there and watched, taking obvious delight in my dilemma.
Well, I showed him, punk kid. Not only did I get parked, I had about an inch to spare at either end!
I entered the Post Office, and took my spot fourth in line. I was aware of the time slipping by and my 10:00 o'clock appointment.
There were two people working the wickets. One a tough, parcel-swinging woman, who made me jump every time she yelled, "Next!" The other, a rather snooty, stern looking man, with glasses perched low on his nose.
I felt like Elaine in Sienfeld's Soup Nazi episode. When the guy with the glasses looked up at me, I quickly smiled and stepped forward.
He looked at my parcel (my husband had packed the books in a M & M's Chicken Box) and asked gruffly, "Where's it going? There's no address on it."
"My husband said you would be giving me a label," I replied politely.
He returned with the label, threw it on the counter, and went out back and began throwing boxes.
I pulled the paper with the address from my purse, and along with it came my lipstick, change, hairbrush and keys, spilling onto the counter and floor. I looked behind me and noticed several more people had gotten in line. They weren't impressed. I quickly threw the things back in my purse.
I slapped the label on the box and realized I had no pen. There was none at my wicket. I looked to the wicket next to me and made eye contact with the customer standing there. And then we both looked down at the pen in front of her. I glanced up at her again. She glared at me.
I decided to go for it! I made a mad reach for the pen. I yanked it quickly only to realize it was attached by a long cord. Not long enough. I was now in between two wickets, right arm stretched out grasping the pen for dear life, left arm stretching to reach my parcel.
I unfolded the page my husband had written the address on. He had written it in HUGE letters knowing I have difficulty reading little print. It made me smile to think he would remember. I started to fill in the label and realized I could not read a single tiny word on it. I had forgotten my reading glasses just as my husband assumed I would.
I was aware of the subtle coughs and jingling of car keys starting to come from the people in line. I tried to speed things up.
I squinted, and held the box further away, and then held it really close. I filled in the label as best I could, for a blind woman, and the clerk returned.
"I hope this is OK, I forgot my reading glasses and couldn't see a thing," I smiled.
"You're not old enough to need reading glasses," he said nicely, smiling for the first time.
He took a look at the label, then handed me his glasses. It was clear to me now that I had totally messed it up. He got me a new label and I began to fill it in, this time much easier, with the help of his glasses.
The loud, scary, woman clerk called him over for something. She asked him a question and began to get snarky with him. I heard him say, "Don't yell at me, I can't see it. I don't have my glasses. Yell at her!" he said, pointing to me.
Everyone in the room looked at me with raised eyebrows, and snickered.
Yeah, that's just great, I thought, glad I could entertain you all.
He returned to the wicket, I handed him the package along with his glasses.
I should have stopped right there, but why would I?
"Don't you think my husband should have wrapped this M & M Chicken box in brown paper or something? Don't you think they'll think it's a little unprofessional when they get this?"
He laughed and said, "Actually, no. I'd be happy to get this in the mail. I think any guy would be happy to receive this."
I had no idea what the hell he was talking about.
He held up the package for all to see and said, "It looks like they're getting BREASTS delivered!"
He handed his glasses to me once again, and I realized I had slapped the label over the words M & M's Chicken,' leaving one word exposed.
There in BIG, BLACK letters, on the center of the package, was the word BREASTS'.
Everyone laughed.
Beautiful, I thought, just beautiful.
Brianna Popsickle, Letters From A Suburban Prison
Observations and reflections on life, and the people around her; written as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, neighbour, co-worker, or whatever else anyone needs her to be.
Artist. Writer. Woman. - Struggling to re-appear after years of confinement in a suburban prison.
I think everyone who reads this can empathize (except maybe for the Breasts' aspect.)
Because I mail parcels worldwide that have to be in a special envelope with brown mailing tape that I apply with a sponge, I so understand. Luckily, however, in most cases, I am able to go to a little post office in the next town that never has a line and knows me and exactly how to handle my material. When I must go elsewhere, it is always a time-consuming, line-waiting, nail-biting experience.
Next time the package will be wrapped in brown paper! It's good when we can laugh at ourselves, even better when we can give others a laugh! Thanks for reading and commenting Nancy!
» left by Dr Clarence Rucker, Jr from MI (60 days 11 hours ago.)
Brianna, you have a good day...smile...smile... I am sorry, it is too enjoying for me to comment. Please, have another happy day on yourself...SMILE... I love it.
This is a hoot - bringing back memories of living in the big city - now we have a post office (where everyone knows us on a first name basis) and no grocery store or gas station.... BUT we love it! Marijo
I'm glad you got a good laugh from it! M & M Meats is a franchise here in Canada, maybe it's not in the States? Yes that would be funny if you were thinking of M & M's candy the whole time you were reading it. Chicken flavour M & M's, yuckkkkk :) Thanks for reading and commenting.
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