Reasons to be cheerful, part 17. Instant Karma. Background info: The lines at the Peter Stuyvestant Post Office on 14th Street are legendary and obscene on a daily basis, the secret to a short wait is to be there at 8am, when they open or on Thursdays after 6pm (it's their official late day, but no one ever knows or remembers, so the place is usually nearly empty). Due to the length of the lines, the frequency that we mail stuff out and the war our shop has been waging with their staff (they want us to get a postage meter, we think it is too expensive), I have developed a system for whenever I end up being the person to bring the mail order to the post office. [HELLO, run-on-sentence!!] Basically, I come in, drop my bag on the line and proceed to weigh my packages at the scale. I go back and forth between wherever my spot is on the line and the scale area, so that if it takes me half an hour to weigh the packages, I've also spent that half hour moving the bag forward in the line. Dual time use. Clever, I know. Until today. An ASSHOLE joined the line behind me (or rather my bag) and when the line moved forward, he stepped around my bag. I then came over and with a smile, moved my bag ahead of him and explained. After I had moved the bag about three times, he made a fuss and told me that I was either on the line or off of it and some other shit. I started to argue with him and then decided it just wasn't worth it. He was an idiot and the line wasn't that long anyway. I was annoyed and had thought about saying "FINE, fuck you. I was here first, so I'll just keep my place on the line. I will NOT weigh and sort my packages. It will take the clerk 3 or 4 times as long to help me and you will just have to WAIT, asshole." But as I said I didn't. I'm sure part of his anxiety about me being served before him was because of the number of packages I had and he was worried about ME taking too much of his precious time. So I went back to the scale, weighed everything and joined the line. About 12 or 15 people had gotten on in the meantime. I waited. He was so inept and took SO long at the window, that I ended up being the next customer at the window he had used. As the clerk was finishing up with my stuff, he came back and put a stack of manila envelopes with one priority mail envelope on the bottom into her window. She actually said to him, "Did you put a stamp on the priority mailer?" He said yes and left the post office. She finished with me and flipped through his stuff. Guess what? He didn't put a stamp on it! I don't know if he was trying to get over, thinking they would just send it through, or if he honestly made a mistake. Two other postal employees had sort of gathered around her and they strated talking about him, how he had treated me on the line and the fact that his package would just have to go back to him. Heh heh heh. A tad ironic don't you think? Got interrupted by a call from Tibbie, who is currently in the hospital. Steam lost and WAAAAAY too much work time wasted.

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