My Thoughts During This Diurnal Portion Of Our Current Rotation:
Post offices don't like me.
It seems like every time I enter a post office, something awkward happens. The past two times especially.
The previous time, I had to go in and get a manilla folder, put my stuff in it, and mail it. Well, the postwoman was exceedingly impersonal. She didn't look at me, she didn't say anything, and she had a stern look as if to say "Manilla folders are the cause of teenage laziness and you need to get a backbone, take a hike, and drop off the papers personally, young man."
More recently, I went in to get 15 two-cent stamps. This post office was lit like 2 out of every 3 flourescent tubes had expired. I got into line, and waited for my turn. Weird thing #1: The guy in front of me was trying to mail something, but he wasn't paying any attention to the postman. The postman kept asking questions, but the guy wouldn't respond at first. It was creepy. Weird thing #2: There was a lady at another desk, and she looked like she was getting ready to take a break or something, so I didn't walk up to her desk. She kept messing with other stuff around the office, but she continued to return to her desk, so it was really unclear whether she was working or not... so I don't know if I looked really stupid to the people behind me or whatever. Weird thing #3: When my turn came at the postman's desk, this lady carrying three boxes comes out of nowhere and says something along the lines of "The machine back there isn't working. I'm going to cut you real quick." I was like, "Okay... sure." Weird thing #4: My turn finally came, and when I asked for 15 two-cent stamps, it came out as "Fifteentwo... cent-stamps." I don't know why. It was absolutely retarted. I repeated it correctly, just to be sure he understood, but that probably just made it sound stupider. I got my 15 stamps though, and I gave him 6 nickels. He totally didn't even count them.
Post offices really just conflict with my personality.
What's With Impersonal Cashiers?
You go in to the local Super K-Mart, get you some delicious generic fig bars, and you go to the registers to check out. You naturally go to the shortest line, and when your turn comes, the cashier slides the package over the scanner and gives you your total. You make some hilarious pun about fig bars, but there is no reaction. It's like you're not even there. She is stone-faced and looks off toward the back of the store as she hands you your change.
I DETEST THAT!
No, I didn't go to K-Mart and get fig bars, but whatever happened to How-are-you-doing?-I'm-doing-great.-Thank-you.-Have-a-nice-day! cashiers?
Of course, there are extremes on both sides. I once bought a bag of pork rinds (so good) at a gas station, and the cashier was like "Man, only in the south will you ever see somebody buying these!" and then I was lectured on how they would make me fat. Sure.
