Post Office "Ar-riba! Ar-riba!"

I hope to entertain you.  I sure entertained them!

Headed to the local post office, I did, to tell them the carrier hasn't picked up my mail in 2 days!!! 

 

"Put up your flag"

"Lean the letters up against the insides of the mailbox"

Grrrr, I did do both!

 

So, in the post office there's a huge line.  4 tellers.  3 tellers are doing passports!  One a family of fussing boys.

Line has at least 12 people and didn't move for over 20 minutes.  And more were coming in.  I'm not kidding.

One gentleman was sent twice to a supply display to get an envelope....well, me and guy next to me could see there weren't any appropriate envelopes resting there, what a rude teller.  Gentleman goes back.  He's running out of time, he's a bus driver and nervous.  Finally, he let's out an expletive.  The teller, one window over, says, "Hey, watch your language!'

 

I chuckled, I'd be cussing, too.  Matter of fact, I'd like to cuss right now!

 

I'm next.  Heading to the window my phone rings.  You should hear it.  It's an Hispanic woman "Ar-riba, ar-riba, it's your telephone!" 

 

Go here, and please, listen until the end for the final gasp: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WvM7M5UVX2I

 

I scramble through my purse. I fumble.  I drop the phone; I'm nervous and embarrassesd.  I swipe the phone, it doesn't take, I swipe it again.  I'm next in line - what a mess!!!!  Everyone around me is laughing.  Except the teller.

"Ma'am.  What can I do for you?  Ma'am!"

 

It's Jeani calling.  I hit the "screen call" option.

 

Would you believe before the teller can tell me "You probably forgot to put up the flag"  and I could utter the scream in my head "I DID NOT!"  that that phone rang again with the Crazy Mexican ringtone!

 

This time it was the United States Post Office!  What?!  

"Hello, is this Pamela Bays?  This is the post master from the Noblesville branch and I'm calling in response to your complaint."

 

OH.  MY.  WORD.  I'm listening to the postmaster who's probably just behind that wall over there, while handing the teller 73 cents, he wanted 78!  

"I thought it was 73 cents, let me dig down in my purse", my head's cocked pressing the phone against my shoulder and knowing with further reddened cheeks that the laughter filtering down the line is because of that voice yelling "Pic it up, pic it up...ah ah haaaaa, gasp"!

 

"Yes, Mr. Postmaster, your carrier is skipping my mailbox."

I had lodged an online complaint, and I guess he'd just now gotten it, and was giving me a call back.

"And do you know what's going on in your own lobby, we're in line and your teller is reprimanding us, it's rude, especially when we pay as much as we do in postage and, BTW, tell your own manager, or powers that be, that we want a drive thru for stamps only.  Everybody has drive throughs, fast food places, dry cleaners, pharmacies...  The post office could have one, too!"

 

"You're right," he was very concillatory and polite and said he'd look into my mail box problem.

 

Then.

And, then...

And, then the phone rings for the third time.  "Ar-riba, ar-riba, it's your tel-ee-pho-o-o-ne!"  

 

Holy guacamole, HOLY NACHOS!!!!!  I gotta get out of here!