In the Post Office

Categories: life

Date: 08 June 2009 10:15:26

I like sub-Post Offices. One of my Saturday jobs as a teenager was in a local shop/sub Post Office at the end of the road in which I lived, and great was the mourning a little while ago when I was informed it had closed.

Today, I toddled along to purchase a relatively large number of stamps. 100 second class, 15 first class. Not an onerous request, I thought.

I stood patiently in the queue, and enjoyed the normal levels of entertainment, as various interesting transactions took place, complaints were made, and pondered the meaning of life, as it's lived around here.

It got to my turn, and I made my request. No problem with the second class stamps, a sheet of 100 was produced. But -

"Do you really want 15 first class stamps?" was the first query, in very dubious tones.

"Yes, please."

"It's just very awkward. I can do 12 or 24."

I thought for a moment, then smiled sweetly, and reiterated my original request.

"No, I only want 15, please."

Deep sighs from behind the counter, as the poor man disappears in to the depths of the cupboard underneath, and with much reluctance, hands over my extra three stamps.

I smiled again, said thank you, paid, left to post the letters, and wondered yet again why it is so difficult for some places to sell you just what you ask for, rather than what they think you need. I'm still using up First Class stamps from two Christmases ago, I really didn't want more than I asked for.