(I am the bad customer in the story. It has been a busy day and I have just gotten out of a doctor’s appointment, one in which I found out the tendon relocation surgery I had on my finger didn’t take. Because of this, my finger is far worse off than it was before hand, and possibly needs amputation. Despite the limited function in my hand, I have managed to become a decent makeup artist. Before I left for the doctors I was notified that I had a package at the local post office; it was an in-demand eyeshadow palette I have been waiting for.)

Me: “Hi, I’m here to pick up a package.”

(I hand over my slip, and despite the news I have gotten, I am trying my best to smile.) 

Clerk: *after a moment of typing* “I am so sorry, ma’am, but it looks like it was actually lost in transit.”

(I break down crying, not so much because of the palette but because of the stress of the day. The poor clerk looks utterly terrified, and I can’t seem to explain myself between sobs. It doesn’t take long for a manager to take over, telling the clerk to head to the back. The manager informs me that because the package was insured, they will do their best to get it replaced or found. I can hardly get out a thank-you before heading outside. I sit on a bench trying to gather myself when, out of the corner of my eye, I see the clerk I dealt with getting in her car and driving off. I head back inside and end up talking to the same manager.)

Me: “Hi. I was wondering if the clerk that helped me would be back; I would like to apologize for my outburst.”

Manager: *looking aggravated* “She was actually just let go.” 

(I felt terrible and tried to explain what had happened and that it wasn’t the clerks fault at all. The manager only seemed half-interested in my story and tried to offer me free shipping to mitigate the situation, which I declined. I felt awful the whole way home. I ended up calling customer service once I got home, and they, too, also offered me something to make the issue better; however, once I explained myself better, they seemed to be more understanding. I didn’t think anything would come of it, and the whole situation kind of went to the back of my mind. About a month later, I walked into the post office and saw the same clerk working behind the counter. I apologized profusely, and she just kept telling me over and over again that it was okay. She told me she couldn’t accept gifts, but I still slipped her a Visa gift card to make up for it all. To the post office clerk, I am so sorry that I put your job in jeopardy. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me.)

Me: “Hi, do you have International Reply Coupons in stock?”

Employee: “We sell IRCs, but this branch has no stock.”

Me: “Can you help me check which branches have stock?”

Employee: “No, I can’t check. Try a different branch.”

(I tried calling customer service to ask. The guy basically told me that IRCs are sold at every branch, but whether or not they have stock depends on the branch, and there’s no way to tell whether the branch has stock besides manually visiting it or calling that specific branch. There are 55 branches. One branch down, 54 to go. Thanks ever so much for the help.)

(This post office is in the back corner of a shop. In the post office queue, the guy at the front is taking ages, getting annoyed.)

Guy: “Look, get me your manager. I was told this would be fine. She’ll back me up.”

Cashier: “Do you mean the manager of the post office or of the whole store?”

Guy: “The post office, obviously. God, are you stupid?”

(The cashier makes a phone call, and it’s obvious the manager tells her to go along with the guy’s demands.)

Cashier: “Okay, then, we’ll just need to see some ID…”

Guy: “But didn’t your manager tell you who I am? She’s a friend of mine, you know.”

Cashier: “Sir, my manager’s a guy, so…”

(The guy shut up and handed over his ID.)

(I am in line at the post office waiting to post some mail for work. In front of me is a rather irate customer.)

Customer: “I’d like to check up on a letter posted ‘tracked.’” 

Clerk: “Of course, sir.” *asks for details* “Okay, sir, it appears the letter has been returned to the sender as no one answered when we tried to deliver it.”

Customer: “That can’t be right. This letter is very important; it has copyrighted documents in it! I posted it to myself!”

(The customer leaves unhappy and the clerk and I share a look.)

Me: “Did that really just happen?”

(I go to the local post office to get some postage and drop off the mail for my boss. Here is the actual conversation at the postal counter.)

Me: “Hi. I need a roll of reg—“

Post Office Lady: “No rolls.”

Me: “You don’t have rolls of stamps?”

Post Office Lady: “No.”

Me: “Okay, how about just 100 stamps, then?”

(She counts out five sheets of stamps.)

Me: “And I need one $1 stamp—“

Post Office Lady: “No $1 stamps.”

Me: “Okay, how about $2 stamps?”

Post Office Lady: “No $2 stamps.”

Me: “Um, all right. I need five postcard—“

Post Office Lady: “We don’t have postcard stamps.”

Me: *growing ever more incredulous* “You don’t have post… Okay, you know what? I’ll just take those, then. I’ll go somewhere else for the rest.”

(I get ready to pay.)

Post Office Lady: “Do you need anything else today?”

(SO MANY responses go through my head, it nearly explodes.)

Me: “Um, no. That will be all.”