I finally finish packing
up the gifts that need to be mailed.
This would all be wonderful if I had remembered to buy more packing
tape, but I forgot when I went to the store earlier, so now I am stuck with the
tape I have left, which is dwindling.
I tape one box shut, the
largest of the bunch, and realize I forgot something. I cut through the tape (there’s a few feet
wasted) and repack the top of the stuff, adding in the nearly-forgotten
stuff. I have four packages that need to
be shipped: two small ones, one medium
one, and one too large to fit in the weigh-it-and-ship-it-yourself chute at the
local post office. I also have about 80%
of my cards ready to go and a stack of bills that need to be mailed.
After packing and wrapping
and addressing and taping everything, I notice I forgot to pack something else
into one of the smaller boxes. I get
another small box and create package #5.
Now I have two small packages, a semi-small package, a medium-sized
package, and THE BOX.
No matter how I play this,
that large package is going to be a deal-breaker. Sometime today I am going to have to stand in
a line to get the damn thing shipped. It’s
my own fault, too. I put some
large-sized, heavier items in the box.
It will cost a small fortune to ship it all, but it’s cheaper than
driving and delivering it all myself.
Early this morning, I
crawl to the post office under the cloak of semi-darkness. There is an automated postal machine there,
so I pop in quickly, as if anyone else will be mailing anything at 6:40 on a
Monday morning. (They are, but they have
the good sense to use the drive-by mailbox.)
I quickly weight the small and medium packages, stick the postage labels
on, and crank them into the chute.
I look at the large
box. I think maybe … But, no. There is no way that box is fitting. I will end up hauling it back out to my car,
which is in the front-row parking space since I am the only clown doing any real
postal business at the moment.
I take the cards and bills
and dump them into the mail slot around the corner from the postal
machine. All is right with the
world! My packages are on their way! Except …
… Except Big Bertha the
Box from Hell.
I am running late to work
now, having spent fifteen precious minutes in the post office lobby in an
attempt to avoid standing in a line after work.
You see, I have a meeting after work, which means I will get to the post
office late, which means I’ll be stuck in traffic, which means I will be
standing in line, which means I have hardly gained anything from my early
morning jaunt to the p.o. The trade-off
is now sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the one access road to my school
and the new high school as we all attempt to jockey for a position that will
get us into our respective buildings before lunchtime.
All day long I stew about
having to stand in line again, my evasive morning tactic gaining me
nothing. A colleague says she is leaving
school during her prep period to go to the post office to mail a package. I should go with her, but I have too much to
do before getting to my meeting on time.
This makes me stew even more. If
I were a pot roast, I’d be falling apart right about now.
I remember that there is a
UPS store about ¾ of a mile from my house.
It’s right next to a little packy I frequent. (For anyone outside of Massachusetts, the
packy is the local liquor store, or any liquor store, for that matter.) I sit at my desk - I have ten minutes before
I truly have to report to my meeting, so I attempt to look up the UPS store
online. Is this store a shipping
store? Is it for residential and
businesses or just for businesses? What
are the hours? Etc., etc., etc.
Hahahahahaha. Stupid, stupid me trying to actually use the
Internet at work! Hahahahahahahahahahaha!
The Internet hardly ever works at work!
Our network supports maybe three computers out of the hundreds in our
building. I am such a frigging moron thinking
I can actually get a Net-based answer in less than two hours, let alone the ten
minutes that I have.
I head to my meeting none
the wiser and still stewing about standing in line later. Goddamn school network.
When I leave the school an
hour later, I know that there is a post office across the street. The parking lot is small, and I can see from
the school driveway that cars are stuck in the street trying to pull in to the
place. Plus, I don’t really want anyone
from the town in which I work having my personal address, nor do I want to make
idle chitchat with parents. I have
things to do, places to go, people to see, packages to ship.
Now comes the critical
decision – Go to the post office near my house and wait in line on the
reportedly busiest shipping day of the holiday season (possibly the year), or …
take a leap of faith and hit the UPS store.
Driving down the main
street, I am still not sure what I am going to do until I near the decisive
intersection and find myself turning toward the UPS store. What
the hell. So I blow another fifteen
minutes then go wait in line at the post office, anyway. Whatever.
The lot is tiny, room for
about six cars, but there are two public lots within spitting distance. I wait for a car to back out and grab a
front-row space here, just as I had at the p.o. in the morning darkness. I carry my package in and see there is a line
… of one person. A second attendant
comes over and offers to help me. The
time it takes me to enter the store and get Big Bertha the Box from Hell onto
the scale for shipping has topped off at about twenty seconds.
Do I want to insure
it? Sure. Guess what?
It’s included. When will it
arrive? I don’t even have to wonder
because the UPS guy says, “It will be there tomorrow afternoon.”
Say, what? Wait
a minute, wait a minute. You mean to
tell me that in the thirty or so seconds I’ve been in this place, you’re
telling me for the same, probably less, amount of money the p.o. is charging
me, I get free insurance AND it’s like an express delivery?
Shut up.
I am so damn excited that
I hand the guy cash and rifle through my wallet. Thank goodness – I have enough cash left for
a six-pack of beer at the packy next door.
I mean, I’ve got to celebrate.
This whole “avoiding the major line” thing is a complete and total
victory. As I stand there dumbfounded
that I am done and everything has shipped and that it has all been painless and
stress-free, I’m suddenly feeling an impromptu party atmosphere invading my
afternoon. One package store to the next, right?
Look, postal service, I’d
like to apologize, but I won’t. I cannot
believe I haven’t shipped packages this way before and suddenly feel like the
world’s biggest jerk. All this time I
believed the hype and the smoke-and-mirrors the USPS has been playing on
me. I feel like I’ve just left a
dangerously one-sided relationship and wonder if the mail staff will realize
that I’m not coming back to mail packages.
Not ever.
Okay, maybe when I have to
mail some in the middle of the night, but it will only be in desperation. I’m pretty adept at running away from relationships
without looking back, and I have to be honest.
The guys at the UPS store? A
little young for me, but definitely worth the brief conversation.
Anyone else need anything
shipped? I’ve got this one covered.
