Going Postal?

This past Saturday, my daughter Randie and I went to the post office to mail a package to her girlfriend out of state for Christmas.  This is something Randie has done many times before and didn't expect any problems. 

We ran into one.

After Randie had placed her items in the US Post Office parcel box and we paid for the postage, we went to the section where parcel packages can be dropped in to be mailed. 

Except it was boarded up. 

No explanation. Just a sheet of blue painted plywood blocking the entrance for parcel packages.  

On Sunday, I thought I would try something. 

Not far from our home here at the Fortress of Ineptitude is a US Post Office processing facility. I though I might go and see if there was a place there for dropping off a package. 

There is a mailbox outside but it was only set up for letters. There's a building adjoining the processing complex that I thought might be a post office like facility for civilian use. 

So I went inside with a box under my arm.  

Immediately once I was inside, I realized this place was not for me but for employees of the post office processing facility. I was about to turn and leave when I was accosted by a woman. 

"THIS AIN'T THE POST OFFICE!" she snapped at me. 

"Well, yes, I know. I was just checking to see if..." 

"THIS AIN'T THE POST OFFICE!" she said again. 

"Yes, I know that. It's just that the post office on Market is..."

"THAT'S A POST OFFICE!" she explained, adding, for good measure, "THIS AIN'T THE POST OFFICE!"

"Yes, it's just that the parcel package section is boarded up and I thought with the mail box outside here at this center..."

"THAT BOX IS ONLY FOR LETTERS!" the woman snapped again. And just in case there was in confusion on my part, "THIS AIN'T THE POST OFFICE!"

I figured at this point trying to explain why I was there was an exercise in futility and so I said, "I'll be on my way then!" 

As I exited through the door, she said one more time, "THIS AIN'T THE POST OFFICE!" and then marched down a hallway to find someone else to yell it. 

As I made my way back to my car, I muttered to myself, "Fuck you! I know this ain't the post office! I thought I might try to see if there was a place to drop off a package here. And if there isn't, just say so. Don't need you biting my head off with 'this ain't the post office' shit." 

About a block from my house, I saw a mail truck parked on a side street. I pulled over and very cautiously approached the  woman in the truck.

"Er, excuse me? Miss?"  

The young lady was kind and gracious, taking time to listen to my dilemma. And she explained why the package drop off was boarded up. It had been in the news (which I missed) but there was some recent security issues with packages being dropped in the post office after hours. The postal worker also apologized she couldn't take this package from me. The only reason her truck was out was for exclusive deliveries for Amazon. 

I made some quip about Jeff Bezos running everything, we both laughed and I thanked her for her time and courtesy. 

Randie and I took the package to the post office on Monday and a very kind postal clerk helped us send it on it's way.  

Meanwhile, in case it wasn't clear earlier, the mail processing center near my house? "THAT AIN'T THE POST OFFICE!"
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Coming up later today: Star Wars - The Rise of Skywalker