Day 12--- Going Postal!

Going postal is an American English slang term, used as a verb meaning to suddenly become extremely and uncontrollably angry, often to the point of violence and in a workplace environment.

Why is it that our government insists on hiring people that aren't even fit to work at KFC to work at our post offices. I expect someone to be an incompetent bitch when she is serving me my ten piece, but not when you are accepting and shipping my valuables across the country/world. Everyone dreads going to the post office, whether you don't want to wait in line or you just don't want to deal with conglomerate of dip-shits that work there. We all have horror stories, here is mine.

Feel free to skip the next paragraph if you have already heard my awful postal experience or just don't care:
Yesterday I had an experience at my non-friendly neighborhood post office. The short of it: I got there to mail my life across the country (21 boxes-remember the pack rat blog) about ten minutes before they stopped letting people in. Not by choice it was the earliest i could get a ride that could fit my boxes. Regardless, I'm there on time and get in line. My brother fills up 3 dollies worth and wheels them in one at a time (he works for a moving company, thank God so this process is fast). They close at five, we get there at 4:50, first dolly in by :54. On his way in with the second one at :56 he is intercepted by Satan. This hood-rat stands in the doorway and says sir you ain't bringing anything else in here. Its almost 5. He keeps going, informing her that I was already inside with a third of my stuff and it was not five yet. He pushes past her while she yells threats about shutting the machines down so i couldn't send anything. He gets in as she yells at him, and then when he pushes them over to me, she starts yelling at me. "why woudun"t you out eh helpin him it wouda been a lot faster"...My reply, "Oh, sorry I wanted to make sure I was in line before five so I could get everything mailed."...She walks toward the back, "ya, well I'm shutting the machines down your not sending anything today". Since I was already in with 15 out of 21 boxes, still before 5, I took this as an idle threat. She's working for the government, this is not her own little fried chicken restaurant she can just open and close as she pleases. So, I continue waiting in line. About 15 minutes later, its my turn, I go up to the window and a completely different woman says, (in her nasty lisp of a Spanish accent) "sir we not taking you stuff today". Meantime, my brother left with the truck so here I am with 15 boxes and 2 she-devils. I was pissed to say the least, however, in a normal level but annoyed tone I say, "did you seriously just let me stand here for 20 minutes knowing you weren't going to help me and wait til I got up here to say anything".... Bitch #2 "sir you need to calm down"... (you know how when you are being calm and someone tells you to calm down it just makes you lose your shit)... Ya, so this happened, I'm already stressed out enough about shipping this shit, and now you're telling me the day I make it here I cant. She then says "and anyways we don't ship no boxes with words on em anyways". ALSO,could have been brought to my attention twenty minutes ago now!... So I say, "well about half of them are just brown boxes, can i ship those?"... "Do you have the addresses on them already?"... "Not yet, I'm shipping most of them media mail with confirmation and insurance and stuff so i thought you'd print a thing"... "OH, you not shippin that media mail, whats in there, that's not all media, I'm going to open and inspect every single one of them."... So I'm thinking, one, am I really being talked to like this from someone I have had no priors with. Two, for those of you who know me, you know I own close to 1,000 DVDs and half a library of books, (not that i read them). She is now not only being A douche-bitch (hybrid), but she is also questioning my integrity in front the few random strangers who stayed for the show, oh and the cleaning dude. Basically, I ended up just leaving once my brother got back, I was not about to sit there while she opened the boxes I just spent hours packing and taping so she could rifle thru my shit.

I really cant say enough derogatory things to express my hatred towards these people. (I'm aware that there are exceptions and I'm being overly general). I can honestly say that I have never left the post office and thought to myself gee that was fun they were so sweet, its certainly no Coldstone. I think that this point if one of them actually said anything other than "how you wanna ship this?, want insurance?, or need stamps?" I would think they were the nicest people on earth.

Lets face it the job really cant be that shitty. They get to wear cool outfits, they all match which means no one is competing to be the best-dressed postmaster. Its also for safety because all of the gang members that work there don't have to worry about the whole gang color situation. It took me almost 25 years, but now I realize why dogs bite these ass-holes, apparently dogs have a keen sense for who needs to be mangled.

Its like these morons get a little bit of power, learn how to say 17 words in English and they think they are in the CIA. I understand you work for the government but so did George Bush, do you really think being in the same category as him is an honor, not anymore. They are paid to take passport pictures but half of them are not eligible for their own it seems like. I swear, the second lady that "helped" me in my story must have had her raft parked out back or she works there so her man can send nose candy thru the mail since she was on the inside. Its sad that I have friends who can actually count past 20 and they cant find work now but these people at the USPS would be hard pressed to pass 15, in English at least. I truly believe postal workers must all be married to people who work for the airlines, because everything about these two groups is miserable. What is it about delivering people or their things that makes you guys want to kill everyone.

Going postal makes sense. I see why postal workers go crazy, if I was around them all day I would too. But pretty soon I think the tables are gonna turn and it will be called "going postal customer"... Which is obviously where we are sick of waiting in like and dealing with their shit and finally lose it.

I actually have a headache now from thinking about how much I hated those bitches yesterday. Yes, I'm aware hate is such a strong word I only wish I could think of something stronger right now. You wanna know the fun part, I still have to go and ship my boxes either today or tomorrow. OH happy day!

So, to make me feel better and a little less crazy, a few people should tell me about their worst postal experience. Go:


Kelly said...

Those "ladies" are pathetic hags, who only have one joy in life; making others miserable so they can pretend they are in a position of power, when really, as they rapidly approach 40, they realise that working at this post office will be their greatest accomplishment in life, and when they're finally fired and replaced by a 20 year old who will do the same job more efficiently for less pay, they will throw themselves off a bridge and do us all a favor!
No offense to any people who work, or have relatives/friends that work for the USPS. My Grandpa was an upstanding and proud employee of the USPS for many years, and would be ashamed of what it has become.

Anonymous said...

there's the mean ryan i like lol

Unbroken Focus said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Unbroken Focus said...

Okay, so we live in the city, we're used to this treatment and we're used to that glass they hide behind--mainly so we won't punch them in the face. The pure scent of asshole they put on in the morning is the only reason it's a federal crime to attack them.

Anyhoo i was shocked when i went upstate with to my in-laws to this shitty pleasantville-type town and stopped at the post office to find--NICE, yes i said nice, postal employees. I even pointed it out. There was no glass, it was well lit and there he was smiling like Bob from the Enzyte male-enhancement commercials. He leaned over the counter and even let me pick a design for the stamps i was about to purchase. I did not understand it all.

It made me want to cry and punch him in the face.

elishlitz said...

Yeah, I don't get why they have to be so rude either. Once I went in search of a package that was undeliverable. This was in Midtown, mind you. Beautiful Post Office with art everywhere. The woman was so wretched. I asked for my package, she said she didn't have it. I asked if she could please take the confirmation number and make sure she didn't have it. She huffed and puffed and went to look for it, all the while shouting (loudly enough for me to hear) about how she didn't have it and I didn't need to be there asking her for it and so on and so forth. When she returned, all red in the face and out of breath, she confirmed that she didn't, in fact have the package. I wonder if she even really bothered to look. We have one of the most reliable postal systems in the world, for which I'm totally thankful. But my goodness, could they do something about the customer service?

Anonymous said...

here in minnesoooooooota, we have something called 'Minnesota Nice' and no one can say 'No' to anyone because that would be rude. All the customer service employees are SO GOD DAMNED FRIENDLY. EVERY ONE IS WAY TOO NICE AND FRIENDLY. A lot of people that I meet that arn't from here are so surprised by it. don't get me wrong, I love it. but if us minnesotians go anywhere else in the US we get taken for suckers.

so, sadly, I do not have a mean postal story for you. :(

Noland said...

It derives from a series of incidents from 1983 onward in which United States Postal Service (USPS) workers shot and killed managers, fellow workers, and members of the police or general public. Between 1986 and 1997, more than 40 people were killed in at least 20 incidents of workplace rage. The phrase has been applied to murders committed by employees in acts of workplace rage, irrespective of the employer. It's generally used to describe fits of rage, though not necessarily at the level of murder, in or outside the workplace.

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