So I went to the post office today to overnight my application to Bennington. Because February is stupid and only hath 28 days except in leap years, which 2007 isn't, and March 1 comes sooner than it seems like it should. I'd initally gone to the post office to mail this application on Saturday in what I consider morning-time. Apparently not everyone considers 1:45 to be so early in the day, though. Apparently they consider that to be 45 minutes after closing time.
I wound up going to the post office before work today. I had a feeling the place would be packed with old people. Probably because it's always full of old people. (Because it's in Turtle Creek, also known as the Least Happy Place On Earth.) Somehow I managed to beat the 12 random old people who each wanted to buy exactly five stamps. I just had to stand behind the one guy mailing 37 things that need to be stamped individually with specific instructions. And this dude SPRINTED into the builing because he saw me coming. With my one envelope. Dick. I spent the whole time his 37 pieces of mail were being stamped thinking of a way to remove some of his hair so he could wake up to Voodoo Surprise tomorrow. When I finally got to the counter, I said, "I need to overnight this." The guy behind the counter, whose name was Bob, looked at me guiltily--almost afraid, really.
"Do you know how much it costs?"
"Not nearly as much as spending the rest of my life in this pothole we call a town," I did not say. "No. How much is it?" I said.
He sighed and then whispered, "It's...$14.40."
"As in dollars? And cents?" I also did not say. "That's fine," I said.
I filled out a form, signed my name three times, and my application will be in someone's hands in Bennington guaranteed by Wednesday. And all because I'm willing to let my children go hungry for another night. According to Bob.
What kind of financial hardship do I look like I'm under that $14 would be such a stretch? If I'm overnighting something, obviously it's important. I don't overnight birthday cards. To college admissions offices. Seriously, Bob. What the hell. I know I'm in a post office in Turtle Creek in what is apparently the middle of the day to people who get up before noon, but I can't look like I'm so pathetic that I will balk at sending my important mail if it's a whopping $14.
There's no place like anywhere but here. There's no place like anywhere but here.
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3 comments:
OMG I found your blog today when I googled "random old people" and it seriously owns my life!
You are, like, the coolest person I have ever kinda-sorta-not-really met!!!!!!
Heck yes bisexuals! we secretly run the world!! wootwoot!!
(sorry bout the slight crazyness, I've been drinking Mountain Dew hehe)
Oh dear, Sweetie. I don't know which is funnier, caffeinated confused boys or idiots at the post office. I'd have been all, "bitch, if I can afford this school, I could probably have flown the damn thing myself, but unfortunately I have other things to do."
Then again, I'm a bitch.
I hate the fucking post office.
Does your post office at least deliver YOUR mail to YOUR house instead of everyone else's mail to your house and then leave you wondering, "Which one of my asshole neighbors has that $1,100 check I've been waiting for."
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