You’re familiar with the long lines, the slow and miserable service, that the USPS offers. But add to those grouchy post office faces an unintelligible accent combined with my general post ignorance, and the bad experience turns a bit scary.
It is true that I don’t know how to package things properly. I’m a terrible gift wrapper. I also like to read from left to write, top to bottom, as most Western people do. So why USPS decided one day that the “To:” field on a box should be in the bottom right corner like it’s at the end of a novel page, I just don’t understand.
Don’t mailmen read books? Wouldn’t they be slightly tempted to send it to the return address in the upper left hand corner before ever getting to the address at the bottom of the page? Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not a mailman …
As you can imagine, the guy behind the counter yelled at me. I couldn’t quite figure out why because his Indian accent was so thick. So then he started laughing at me. This is when I become a naive, uninfluence idiot who doesn’t know how to write an address on a package. AKA this is when the post office became scary.
I knew I was going to have to go back, because my mom’s birthday was in a week. And then my dad’s and my sister’s were two weeks after that. So I decided to minimize the damage and send them all together.
My second trip was much more successful. I avoided the man who laughed at me, and luckily ended up at the Indian woman’s counter instead. I was only confused when she asked me if I was sending my package to K-Y. As in the jelly? I wondered, but no, she meant Kentucky.
All-in-all, I think I’m becoming a much smarter sender.