Oh, Shirley at the post office why do you have to make me miserable? You, with your long nails and inability to process my transaction correctly. Why do you send me, at 8:30, twice to the bulk mail window without telling me they don't open until 9? Why do you not know how to operate your register, vainly tippy, tapping with your nails against the smooth computer screen. Why make my morning difficult even though it started by sleeping in late and coffee in bed?
If I'd had my choice, I would have gone to the window of the smiley lady who can even barely speak English, yet still works in U.S. government service. She a least was dispatching her line with some quickness. But no, by the cruel hand of fate I drew the window of slow, wrong Shirley.
You remind me of Fernando at Motor Vehicles who lorded his power over me for an hour and a half before he finally deigned to give me my license. I would have complained to the manager, but he had the temperament of a rabid grizzly bear and I thought I might get reset to the back of the line, so I just meekly took my license, crack whore picture and all and thanked Fernando for making me wait and meekly left.
The trials of the lowly office administrator are many yet we must persevere. Laters.
No comments:
Post a Comment