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the post office makes me sad
Nov. 17th, 2004 06:20 pmI finally got to the post office today to mail the box for the Marines unit. The line was very long, and provided me with far too much time to observe the post office. If nothing else, it's the sort of thing with the poorly hung safety posters on the wall that makes you think that maybe in the end all government is, is a grimey, tired thing.
In front of me, two fellows with very heavy Scottish accents we're trying to mail a pacage and realizing that they'd left their ID at their hotel were discovering they weren't going to be able to. Now, there are a number of things that annoy my about this, not the least of which is that the post office in my neighborhood, populated by immigrants doesn't require ID to mail things because a lot of people don't have ID. This post office, in a business area, does, because a lot of people do. So obviously the ID isn't about safety, it's about making the sorts of people prone to complaining feel safe. Yuck. Anyway, they decide to go back to their hotel to get the ID, which means quicker line for me.
There's a flag in the post office, and the pole is on the floor but also strapped to the wall with metal, but it's still listing to one side anyway. The ceiling is stained, and there's a talking sign about the new self-service machines, but all it can do is hiss and moan because someone punched it and damaged the little voice machine thingy inside it.
I'd never sent a box to an FPO before, so I hadn't realized I needed to fill out a customs form. The guy at the window was nice about it, and as I stood to the side doing mine, I realized the woman at the next window was also mailing something to a soldier somewhere. We finished with our packages at about the same time, and on the way out she grabbed all the selective service registration forms off the counter and threw them in the trash.
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wordsfromiraq
In front of me, two fellows with very heavy Scottish accents we're trying to mail a pacage and realizing that they'd left their ID at their hotel were discovering they weren't going to be able to. Now, there are a number of things that annoy my about this, not the least of which is that the post office in my neighborhood, populated by immigrants doesn't require ID to mail things because a lot of people don't have ID. This post office, in a business area, does, because a lot of people do. So obviously the ID isn't about safety, it's about making the sorts of people prone to complaining feel safe. Yuck. Anyway, they decide to go back to their hotel to get the ID, which means quicker line for me.
There's a flag in the post office, and the pole is on the floor but also strapped to the wall with metal, but it's still listing to one side anyway. The ceiling is stained, and there's a talking sign about the new self-service machines, but all it can do is hiss and moan because someone punched it and damaged the little voice machine thingy inside it.
I'd never sent a box to an FPO before, so I hadn't realized I needed to fill out a customs form. The guy at the window was nice about it, and as I stood to the side doing mine, I realized the woman at the next window was also mailing something to a soldier somewhere. We finished with our packages at about the same time, and on the way out she grabbed all the selective service registration forms off the counter and threw them in the trash.
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