Post Office can BITE my ass

If you hang out with me long enough, you'll see that I can have a pretty morbid, crass, and dry sense of humor. That said, let me just rant about my frustration with the post office. So, I went to the Berkeley post office the other day, and there was about 6 people ahead of me. I was short on time, so I was relieved to see that the line was going by pretty fast. There were 4 post office tellers working the desk, so I thought that I would get out of there on time. Well let me tell ya, there ain't no one slower than a post office teller. They must have the life sucked out of them with a blood sucking leech every morning before the work shift. Anyway, as the line grew shorter, I held my number in my little hand with excitement that I was going to be next. "Just call my number lady. Number 62.....just call my freakin' number."
60.....
61.....
.....and then...... all four tellers left. They went in the back room where they received another dose of leech sucking. I, with 5 others, felt my blood starting to boil. (You see, this isn't the first time I've had bad experiences with post office workers. This is how it is with me.) I waited for 10 more minutes, looking at the clock anxiously awaiting their arrival. Finally, one of them slowly came back. She finally called, "62," and I ran up. I gave her my package ticket and she went to go find it........little did I know, the back room is also the fucking black hole.

In the end, I waited another 15 minutes for her to come back and give me a phone number. She didn't have the package. (The package I was picking up for my sister as a favor.) So, my sister called the supervisor and told her what happened. The supervisor then repremanded my sister and scolded, "We didn't lose your package. We just can't find it." uh, duh duh duh.

We went back together to the post office to find that they couldn't find the package again. We told them we weren't leaving until they found it and that we spoke with the supervisor, who later found it in the black hole.

After we left, my sister said, "no wonder people send anthrax to the post office. If only they did their job better." I laughed and thought that physical contact would be more satisfying. A good punch in the face would suffice.

haha.

(i know, we're bad. but it's a joke, get it?)