The Post Office and Inferiority

Nothing earth shattering to say today, just an experience to share. My wife sent me to the post office today, and experience I am altogether unfamiliar with, but was confident I could overcome and accomplish my task. Turns out the Post Office is smarter than I.

First off, did you know that the entire Post Office is controlled by a computer now? Didn't Orwell warn us about this? But I digress. You walk in and there she is, the Post Office 9000 or whatever. She looks harmless enough, heck, she even looks friendly. The Post Office 9000 is a master of disguise.

I follow the instructions, she shuts down. Typical. You talk logic to a woman and they want no piece of it. She boots up again, but this time moves a little slower than before as if mocking me. Finally, after making me swipe my card seven times, she decides to print my label complete with delivery confirmation reciept. We have made up, the machine and I. Life is good.

So I proceed to the next step... put the sticker on the envelope. Easy enough, right? WRONG! I looked and looked and read and read, but the sticker in my hand was bigger than the stinking little box that they demand you stay within. So what now? Larger envelope? SO CONFUSED!! I moved that thing around the envelope and stared, moved it again, stared, moved it again, stared... seriously, you would have thought I was thinking through the best place to attach a third arm! I finally gave up and went to the guy at the desk. He looked at me, shook his head, affixed my label and showed me to the exit.

I was having a good day, too. Leave it to the Post Office to humble you. I guess I'm lucky I didn't get shot. Always a silver lining.