Post office antics

It’s not often one sees a USPS clerk smile, but I lucked out today.

A man in line ahead of me started addressing one of those padded mailers. Midway through the task, his pen poked a miniscule hole in the envelope. “I’m going to put this envelope back and get another one,” he told the postal clerk.

“You can go ahead and get another one, sir,” she replied, “but don’t put that used envelope back.”

Stunned, Mr. Postal Perfectionist asked why.

“Sir, you wrote on it. It’s yours now. You have to pay for it.”

Now super-stunned, the man argued, “Someone will use it. I’m just going to put it back.”

Cool! Things were heating up. The clerk shifted into marginally polite overdrive. “Sir, nobody’s gonna want your envelope. You wrote on it, and you need to pay for it.”

“The writing can be covered up,” he persisted. By this time, I’m seconds away from handing him $2.00 to pay for the fucking envelope and get the hell out of the building, but the clerk intervened. She puffed out her ample bosom, dropped her head to her left shoulder and narrowed her eyes just enough to make him cave.

“Fine. I’ll pay for it,” he said curtly. Then he stepped aside to finish addressing the envelope while the clerk waited on another customer. Finally, he completed his transaction and left with the pesky extra envelope under his arm.

I stepped up to the counter. Although I had made eye contact with the clerk at least three times during the performance, I decided to play it straight. I paid for my two packages, acting as though nothing odd had happened. When she asked whether I needed stamps or mailing supplies, I pretended to think about it for a few seconds and said, “No. I don’t think so. Unless you’re having a sale on used envelopes.”

The clerk slammed her hand on the counter and doubled over, chortling. “I knew you were gonna say something. I knew it! I knew it before you even came up to my counter.”

It was the first time I ever had fun in a post office, and it made me feel like a fucking ray of sunshine.