Listen in, listen Ian! (ruudboy) wrote,
Listen in, listen Ian!

The fvcking Post Office.

The seven most optimistic words in the English language: I'll just nip into the Post Office

I only wanted stamps, and the post office is also a Co-op so I asked at the main counter if I could get stamps there. Of course not. Every other convenience store in the country, yes, this one, no. There's a long queue, and only one person serving, because the bloke's "Gone out for his lunch." Now, I'm not saying that people in shops shouldn't get reaks, but hasn't it occurred to anyone in them yet that lunchtime is when they will be busiest. Don't have your break then.

Then the woman from the penny arcade starts paying in yesterday's takings. Every last bit of them. Now, for one thing, it's not the bank, it's the fvcking Post Office. You can tell that because it says "Post Office" outside and not "Bank". I'm good at picking up little clues like that. She's obviously not as clever as me like that, so she starts weighing infinity bags of cash on the letter scales, and then - then she produces some not full bags of cash that the post office woman has to count. Now, I don't own a business so I might not fully understand the business banking procedure, but I reckon that once you've bagged up all the twenty pence pieces into their £10 bags, the 3 quid or so left over can wait until the next day's bank run. Yes, it won't keep people in the Post Office Queue waiting as long, but that's the only drawback I can readily think of, and it isn't that much of one really as far as I can see. By now, Polish woman ahead of me in the queue and I are both getting visibly fed up, and we sigh simultaneously, realise and giggle slightly.

When I eventually get served, I ask for seventeen first class stamps, confident that I'll be out of there soon. But no! - the woman asks me if I heard what she said to the Polish woman. I refrain from shouting at her that I have no interest in someone else's transaction, and Just Say No. She tells me that they're out of first class stamps - they were all burnt in Hemel Hempstead, apparently - and tells me that she can sell me that many second class stamps, and the equivalent number of 9p stamps. This is enough information for me, but she then makes it explicitly clear that I will need to use one of each on each letter. I signal that I can probably cope with the technology, and she passes the stamps over saying "What you'll need to do now, is stick one of each of these on each of your letters." Jebus. I obviously belnd in well with the locals.

And I can't find the fvcking chewing gum I bought while I was out.

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