I am CERTAIN that I have mentioned here before exactly how I feel about the post office. Or, should I say, how I feel about GOING to the post office.
Me no likey. At all.
And during the holidays .... Oy.
BUT - Tis the season, right? AND, the packages that needed mailing were actually from the Princess. She took her own money to her school's "Holiday Store".
(Fa La La La Language Alert: "Holiday Store" is code for overpriced piece of shit trinkets that usually break upon opening. But, Tis the season, and she is always so proud of these pieces of ... er, I mean ... treasures....)
So, after the holiday store shopping (which was a week ago ... yeah, Mom of The Year here), she got off the bus clutching her treasures. So proud. All she asked was that I mail them to the recipients for her.
Ugh.... er, I mean, SURE HONEY, NO PROBLEM ... I LOVE THE POST OFFICE!!
Tis the Season, after all.
So, today was the day. I had it all figured out. I had a plan that, I was certain would outsmart the other parcel sending schmucks who would for sure be standing in line to see an "agent".
I however, would blow in, grab 2 small flat rate boxes (see, I even know the lingo), chuck the pieces of .... I mean TREASURES in, go to the self help (yes, I see the irony right there) station thingy (ok, so I don't know ALL the lingo), push some buttons, swipe my card, AND GO!!!
Sounds like a terrific and FOOLproof plan, yes?! I thought so too.
Turns out, I am NOT the only one that knew about the flat rate boxes and the self- help thingy.
Also - little tip - there are NO PENS at the self help thingy. Apparently, it is proper etiquette to have pre-retrieved said boxes, folded them properly (which I now know requires an engineering degree), place items for shipping in them, and seal & address them, ALL PRIOR TO SELF HELP THINGY ARRIVAL.
And I am living (thankfully) proof that the other holiday self helpers expect EVERYONE to know, understand and adhere to these rules.
I have never been a big fan of the rules.
(And don't even get me started on all the questions the electronic self help thingy asks, all while the stares of the shipping patrons behind you burn holes in the back of your head. By the way, what idiot actually answers yes to the 6 paragraph question that asks if whatever your shipping contains dangerous liquids or explosives?!!)
So, to the eye-rolling twenty-something in slippers that let me borrow her pen: Thank you, Merry Christmas, and put some shoes on.
And, to the angry elf with the engineering degree and obvious asthma problem (he kept huffing and exhaling loudly and deliberately as I S-L-O-W-L-Y typed the destination zip code. Secretly, I wanted to see if my "speed" could make him hyperventilate): thank you for yanking the box out of my hand, causing a cardboard cut on my middle finger (which is what I was showing you, btw, I swear), you clearly saw I was struggling, and were overwhelmed with the Christmas spirit causing you to so graciously help. So, thank you, too.
Tis the Season.
I'd likely have a completely different outlook on the whole experience were it not for a pig-tailed, dimpled, adorable 3 year old who watched the whole exchange above (quietly and patiently, I might add), and as I walked toward her to leave, simply said, "Those packages were BEAUTIFUL. Whoever you sent them to will LOVE them. Merry Christmas!"
My eyes hugged that child, and as I looked up at the mom, I actually had tears in my eyes and could utter only these words, "What an angel. Merry Christmas."
And she's right. They're treasures because of the heart that chose them.
Tis the Season.
-- Post From My iPhone