When was the last time you’ve been to the post office? This was my second time. There to finally pick up my birthday present (THANKS MOM), upon entering I was transported back to a time that smells like wood and feels (ironically) like you’re not in the US at all, maybe a rural town in Italy that delivers mail on donkey-back.
I’ll share three anecdotes from my visit:
1: The man being helped when I arrived had a stack of magazines in plastic, protective sleeves and was explaining to the woman behind the counter the value of these “expensive magazines.” Apparently, he hadn’t been receiving them at his home regularly as he had hoped. I wouldn’t call him angry, more like excited. The woman was very patient with him. Eventually she went to get the manager. He was still waiting for the manager when I left.
2: While this exchange between man with magazines and USPS woman was happening, a 70+ year old lady carrying a huge cardboard box shuffled up to the counter (cutting me and another man in line I might add) and dropped the package on the counter. She said she didn’t want the package. Then she left. She was wearing a leopard wind-breaker
3: Also while man with magazines was airing his grievances, I had an urge to form some sort of camaraderie with the man in line in front of me. I smiled knowingly at him, as if to say, “wow this magazine guy sure is taking a long time, isn’t he a little tightly wound? We are both so full of patience for waiting here in this line while he goes on and on.” I’m pretty sure he interpreted my smile correctly, because he then said:
“You’re fixin’ to lose your band-aid”
Indeed, the man was right. The band-aid on my heel was half off, flapping the air conditioned “lobby” of the US Postal Service. Camaraderie.