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The petre dish.

06 Jan

Scientist’s will use petre dishes to grow bacteria and all sorts of scary things is this tiny enclosed space.

The bacteria, and other things, are just trapped and jammed in all together.

Welcome to the Post Office.

A letter came from Europe.

It has about a dozen sheets of paper in it.

And the mailman left a note on the front door that the letter is to heavy to deliver.

Let me repeat.

The letter is too heavy to deliver.

The Post Office stopped random drug testing a few years ago, by the way.

So I went to the Post Office.

The Post Office is never open when its convenient, just bankers hours.

And lazy bankers at that.

There is a VERY diverse selection of humanity in line at the Post Office.

It is amusing for a few moments to examine each person ahead of me in line and try to figure out their situation in life.

Its also pretty rude and childish.

But we’ve met, right?

The guy in front of me, judging by mode of dress, general health and, oh yeah, THE STENCH, is most likely homeless.

Or he is just allergic to soap.

The lady in front of him just might be a crack head.

This is due, in part, to the fact that she seems to have a permanent itch on her face.

And then she turns around.

She works here.

Good lord.

She shuffles past the homeless guy in front of me and stops.

“Um, whatchu need today?”

This is a direct quote, I shit you not.

I explain to her about the letter that is too heavy.

“Um, they don’t do that. It must be a big um, box.”

I wonder if they could remove the um from her speech, would she be able to talk at all?

In the end, I just kind of walked past her when the line moved.

She didn’t say anything, she just wandered over by the media counter on the other side of the room and began straightening piles of pamphlets.

There is a woman at the counter who is shouting to be heard by the woman behind the counter.

She seems to be shouting in Spanish.

At an Asian woman.

Amazing.

I finally get to step up to my little section of the counter.

And then she begins talking.

In an accent too thick to be understood.

Sigh, gonna be a long day.

After five minutes of repeating the story of the letter that is too heavy to be delivered, she indicates that I should move to the side.

She says “Supervisor” three times until I get it.

15 minutes later, an The Angry Man comes to an empty counter spot.

He points at the counter in front of him and begins shouting.

He doesn’t believe me about the letter being to heavy to deliver.

And since I don’t have the note they pinned on the door, he goes in the back to find the box that is too heavy to deliver.

So, 10 minutes later, he is back without the box, mainly because there isn’t one.

Its a letter, dude.

After another 15 minutes later, he gets it.

And then finding the letter takes a minute.

And I am free to go.

Thank God.

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Posted by on January 6, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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