Breakfast At Tiffany's




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Post Office Drama

Part of: Seinfeld-esque , Slice of Life

I just went to the post office and stood unnecessarily in line for fifteen minutes. My box had overflowed and I needed to collect a very large package-so large it didn’t fit into the bigger boxes!

I thought to myself, maybe I have a secret admirer or something. I hadn’t ordered anything recently. I joined the long line to pick up my special package. There was a poshly dressed casual lady ahead of me. She was in her mid to late forties and had virgin hair. I wanted to tell her that she rocked for being au natural (no dye), but she would have definitely been embarrassed.

Another woman in line was wearing the ubiquitous baseball cap and sunglasses. Let’s just say she was Sharon Stone, for example. Sharon, you have people who can do these things for you. If you venture into the post office, at least take off your shades. No one is a VIP at the post office. Most of the line consisted of old ladies. It was 2:30…

Eight minutes into the line, I heard a man in the other room telling a homeless person, “You are stinking up this whole place—it’s disgusting. Get a home. You need to take a shower.” I could only see the mean man’s back. I don’t think the homeless person said anything to provoke this viscous response.

My first reaction was to go over and say something to the mean man. But there were men in line and post office employees. Why weren’t they doing anything? I lost my nerve when I thought about the fact that I was still frail from being sick, and my brain wasn’t up to normal speed. The guy was very big and I am very small. No one in line looked like they could beat him up. I do wish I would have done something anyway.

I finally got to the front of the line and hoped I would get the cool black chick with the braids. She is very pretty and nice. There’s also the Asian guy and a balding guy. I’ve had them before, and they definitely lacked charisma. It was my lucky day. Beautiful Braids brought my stack of magazines. I was excited for my magazines. How often do you only get magazines in the mail? There was no great package, though.

I did bring some excitement to the office when I said I hadn’t received 3 months worth of my Lucky fashion magazine. (No one wanted my New Yorker or National Geographic.) I felt like I was in the Seinfeld episode where Kramer wants his mail stopped permanently. Beautiful Braids nodded her head to the Asian guy.

“He’s just going to tell you to call the magazine company.”

Then she told him my predicament.

“Call the magazine.”

“I did. They sent the magazines.”

He repeated himself, “Call the company.”

Beautiful Braids jumped in, “She just said she did and there was no problem.”

Asian guy didn’t say anything.

Beautiful Braids looked at me with sympathy, “I’ll look out for it. I’ll tell them back there.”

“I don’t care if you guys borrow it or anything, just tell them to put it back,” I pleaded. “It’s my one fashion magazine. I get lots of magazines. I need my fashion.”

All the clerks started laughing at that.


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