Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Cry For Everything Bad That's Ever Happened

Van Gogh's Postman was, I'm sure, much kinder.

I'm going to preface this by saying that I realize that the incident I'm about to recount isn't really that big of a deal, but after a morning where I had to listen to my co-worker scream at his bank about overdraft charges for a half hour (I feel ya brother), and because I've had something stuck in my right eye all day long... I want to cry right now. And I never cry.

Anyway, I just had the worst lunch break possibly ever. I had to go to the Post Office over on Adams and Dearborn to mail out this book that I put up on Half.com over a year ago, but had completely forgotten about. So some library in Fort Wayne, IN buys it from me and next thing you know I'm standing at the counter at the P.O. waiting for disgruntled postal employee #3075 to help me ship it "Media". I could tell he was obviously not doing his job correctly from the get-go since this was the first and only time I've shipped something Media and haven't been asked what the contents of my package were. Whatever though, small slip up on his part and frankly, I don't really care.

But then I go to pay with my debit card and because I know the post office is such a stickler for proper identification I show him my ID without him asking and he gets all Bitchy Mc Bitcherson when I tell tell him that I'm going to be using it as Credit: Don't show me your ID, it's a credit card. I'm sorry, but the last time I checked, it was a fucking courtesy for me to show you my ID unsolicited. And we've all had shitty jobs pal, but back in the day, if I was having a bad go of it and had to ring up customers I thought unworthy of my time and energy, I just made vaguely nice and sent them on their way.

When shit like this happens, I can't even summon anger, I'm usually so flabbergasted that someone would be that rude. So I have a tendency to do the equally "rudest" thing my WASP upbringing taught me: I act like I'm better than them. 95% of the time I don't feel like I'm better than other people, but once they've gone and done me wrong, well, all bets are off. I sort of chuckled when he shunned my ID and then I asked Shitty Mc Shiterson if he was having a bad day to which he replied, No, but now I am.

Right, I get it... this is the post office, so ex officio this guy gets to be a total fucking prick but I don't get to acknowledge that or anything. Such is my lot.

Oh, and the Trader Joe's rice bowl I had for lunch was horrible. I need a drink.

1 comment:

lkbom said...

It's OK. It's like everyday of my life on the bus that I somehow get accused of being racist...