What Would You Do If You Found A Random Package In Your Car?

, , , , | Working | February 8, 2021

I submitted this story about the trouble I had with a certain delivery company.

I have had trouble with delivery companies for many years. I can’t even count the number of complaints I have filed over the years. They don’t like to drive down my long driveway in the rural area I live in, so they keep leaving my packages on a neighbor’s front porch. My packages always come back from her house smelling terrible.

Our local postal carrier is also guilty of leaving packages at her house. After NUMEROUS complaints spanning several years and begging them to just leave an official slip letting me know I have a package waiting for me at the post office, I finally get them to understand the problem… or so I think.

One day, I get a notice that a package has been dropped off in the green car next to my mailbox. I go up to the post office and demand to speak to the postmaster.

Postmaster: *In a nice way* “Oh, you again. Here to pick up a package?”

Me: “I wish. Your carrier left this note in my mailbox that they left the package in a green car parked next to my mailbox.”

Postmaster: “Oh, that was probably so you wouldn’t have to drive all the way down here. I guess it was lucky you left your car unlocked.”

I speak louder and with more anger in my voice than I probably should.

Me: “I don’t own a green car.” *Pause* “As a matter of fact, I don’t know anyone who does own a green car. I have no idea who was even parked up on the main road next to my mailbox and the other mailboxes there.”

There are a few seconds of silence.

Postmaster: “Oh, umm… Yes, I see. That… that is not good, is it? I… Well, of course, we will replace the package, and—”

Me: “You can’t. It was a collector’s item I got off of eBay. But you sure as heck will refund the money I spent and have a little talk with the mail carrier. Grant you, this is a rural community and we tend to be laxer about certain things, but I can’t see how opening the doors of random cars is legal.”

The postmaster apologized again, and afterward, they held my packages down at the post office and left official pickup notices in my mailbox.

You Passed The Smell Test

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“Normal” Is A Myth

, , , , | Friendly | February 7, 2021

My carer and I are buying some things at a small local shop. This shop, like many others in the UK, has a post office in it. Due to social distancing measures, only one person is allowed in the post office section at one time. Those waiting to use it have to queue outside.

My carer is known for his dry wit and I am on the autistic spectrum. I have used the sanitizer at the shop’s entrance, worn a face covering, and observed social distancing. As we are leaving, a woman tries to enter the post office when there is already someone there and is very politely told to wait outside. The man with her takes exception and complains rather loudly that the staff are being appalling.

As we are walking away, my carer observes that it’s a very weird world when so-called “normal people” have more trouble adjusting to new rules than a person with a disorder that supposedly makes it difficult for them to adjust to change.

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Identity Crisis, Part 2

, , , | Right | January 26, 2021

I work in a pack and ship store that also happens to have mailboxes that people can rent. I answer the phone one day.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Post Office]; how can I help you today?”

Customer: “Thank you for answering! I just have a couple of questions, so I was hoping I could get some information from you.”

Me: “Of course! What can I help you with today?”

Customer: “I have a driver’s license, so what would you recommend?”

Me: “Sorry, recommend for…?”

Customer: “Oh! For identification.”

Me: “Identification for what, ma’am?”

The customer suddenly snaps, acting as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

Customer: “For opening a mailbox at your store! Oh, my God! What forms of identification do I need to open a mailbox?!”

Identity Crisis

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Enveloping Confusion

, , , | Right | January 8, 2021

I am waiting in line at the local post office. The customer ahead of me is with his teen daughter. He has a handful of small metal parts and he’s talking to the clerk.

Customer: “Do you have any boxes or envelopes for sale so I can package these parts for shipping?”

Clerk: “There are padded envelopes on the bottom shelf.”

He indicates the display just behind us, with a four-foot-wide desktop for taping and writing, and two shelves beneath, stocked with flat boxes and a variety of envelopes.

The customer steps over to the display and looks at the desk where the pens are, and then at the top shelf, and then back at the clerk, confused.

Clerk: “Padded envelopes are on the bottom shelf, on the left.”

The man AGAIN looks at the top shelf, starting on the right, flipping through all of the boxes and envelopes until his teen daughter speaks up.

Customer’s Daughter: “DAD! On the BOTTOM LEFT! Jeeeeeeeeeez!”

He finally listened and saw the envelopes he needed.

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Keeping Your Health In Line

, , , , , | Right | January 5, 2021

I am an at-home caregiver for two family members of poor health who haven’t been out of the house all year due to the health crisis. As such, I make sure I am as vigilant as possible when I need to go out for shopping or errands with a mask, hand sanitizer, and the works. Also, due to the cold weather, I am covered nearly head to toe with only my hands and eyes showing.

I am mailing packages to family members with their presents and cards because I told them there was NO way we are entertaining this year. Way too many kids and grandkids!

The borough’s post office is in an old, hundred-year-old brick building. When you walk in the large glass and wood doors, there’s a makeshift vestibule that you turn left or right to get into the lobby.

I don’t even make it through the first door, and there’s another man waiting there in line. Everyone’s got masks on, but even without stickers on the floor, everyone’s staying away from each other a few feet.

I set the boxes down as I’m waiting, but the line’s moving fairly quickly, so I take to just holding them as I wait. I am halfway through the line when the man behind me — way too close for my comfort — pipes up.

Customer: “You could probably set your packages down there while you wait.”

Me: “No, I’m good.”

Seriously, they are only about fifteen pounds and not oversized. A few seconds lapse.

Customer: “You could set them on that trash can there.”

He points to one a few feet in front of us.

Me: *Rather sternly* “They’re not heavy.”

I’m normally chatty and nice, but I’m in a hurry and have a bit of anxiety around people in general.

Once more, he pipes up.

Customer: “I only have to ask the lady one question.”

I don’t even bother responding. I assume he wants me to give up my place in line because he only had “one small question,” but hey, we’re all in a hurry. It’s the holidays, it’s cold out, and we’re in the middle of a health crisis.

I steadfastly keep my place in line, and what do you know, within a few seconds, I’m at the counter. My packages take only a minute or two to mail as they are all going priority. One swipe of a credit card, a receipt, and we’re good to go.

I leave and pause outside the door to tuck the receipt in my wallet, and the guy barrels past me. Sorry, dude. We all have to wait our turn!

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