It's Not Just the Employees Who Go Postal

There is a mysterious bell that everyone in the Seattle area can hear but me, and it rings when I want to go to the Post Office so that everyone else will know to gather up everything in the house that is not nailed down, wrap those items for mailing to wherever (I suspect that someone in Namibia is even now opening a package of dryer lint with a puzzled expression), poke their children to make them cranky, and run to the Post Office to stand in line ahead of me. Either that, or Christmas is always a week away around these parts and, since I don't see any tinsel, I'm thinking it must be the former. I also suspect that these people get points or reward bonuses or something for any extra things they can think of to do that will make the visit more enjoyable.

Perfume that would peel paint off the walls? Check.

Have a loud, should-have-been-private conversation on the cell phone approximately 6 inches from my elbow? Check (But be sure to let me know what that strange skin thing in your husband's "private area" turns out to be...now I'm curious.)

Pay for $40 worth of postal services with pennies you dug out from the couch cushions? Check.

Realize at the front of the line that you do not actually remember the address of the person you're sending the dryer lint or marshmallow cream or whatever to? "Hang on...it's right here...oh, I know it...!" Check.

Smile benevolently while your child swings from the rope defining the waiting area like a snot glazed tree monkey, shrieking and smacking my leg at the apex of each swing? Check.

Note: I actually really love children, and I can only imagine how challenging it is to try to get everything done with small ones in tow...but seriously. This woman made one feeble attempt at "Billy, stop." while not actually looking at him (or, unfortunately, wiping his nose) and then turned away to check her fingernail polish and leave him to his leg whacking in peace. I think the bar for managing your child's behavior in public can be set a trifle higher than that.

Carry one small item up to the counter to mail and then somehow magically produce what seems to be the entire contents of Santa's sleigh from one tiny purse while saying cheerfully "Oh, and these, too."? Check.

Get nearly to the front of the line before turning to the gentleman behind you to smile and say "Oh, can you just hold my spot while I go grab something from my car?" and the car is apparently parked in Mongolia? Check.

The Post Office employees always do their part as well. For instance, I think it takes a special kind of genius to wait until the exact moment that it would be my turn to wander off aimlessly and not return for several moments. I'm sure it's only paranoia that makes me picture these employees huddled behind the backroom door hissing to one another "No, wait! You can't go back out there yet..she's still here!" They also apparently have some focusing issues as evidenced by this exchange:

Me: Hi, I'd like to mail this to Ireland. There's nothing breakable or perishable or hazardous in it.
Employee: Okay, is there anything breakable in it?
Me:....Uh....no....
Employee: How about perishable? Is there anything perishable in it?
Me: Well....no.
Employee: Is there anything that could be hazardous in it?
Me: (whimpering quietly to self.)

It continues later when I attempt to pay with a debit card by handing it over and saying brightly: "Here you are. It's debit.", only to be asked immediately "Okay, is this debit or credit?"

Why, yes. Yes it is.

Still, I can't blame them. I think if they didn't tune out at least some of the shrieking and crying and screaming (I only cried and screamed a little, quit looking at me like that) at least some of the time, the whole "going postal" thing would be much more common. You know, like a coffe break.

"Hey, you taking break now?"
"Yeah, it's my turn to go completely nuts and threaten to blow the place up."
"Okay, great. See you in ten."

The nice thing is that now the once-arduous task of finishing my Jaywalker sock (Hi, my name is Flo and I have Second Sock Syndrome) is looking pretty darned good.