back to the present

So finally, enough prefacing, time for the post office story. I was informed by the super in my building that there is no mailbox key, and she has to contact my landlord about finding it. So I think, maybe if I go to the post office they might be able to just get me a spare key. I don’t know much about mailboxes apparently because they don’t just give out keys. I walk into the post office at 1:57, and I see the lady behind the window chatting away, not serving me, and so naturally I decide to be obnoxious.
“Excuse me?” I try to take the bitchy edge of the tone I would normally use in this type of situation.
“We’re not open until 2:oo.” She doesn’t even look at me when she says this.
“Then why are you’re doors unlocked?”
“We’re on lunch, you’ll have to wait until 2:00.” She isn’t eating anything, she’s just leaning against the open window, chatting with someone I can’t even see, and at this point it’s 1:59.
“Ok, what can I do for you?”
I explain to her that I’m new in town, that I just moved here three days ago and then I continue with my question about the mailbox key.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that, it’s not our problem” she barks.
“Um what? How is the mail not your problem, this is the post office isn’t it? Aren’t you supposed to handle the mail? I just need a key, or if you can stop forwarding the mail to my apartment and I can just pick it up here?”
“No, like I said it’s not my problem, you’ll have to talk to the landlord about the key.”
“He doesn’t have one, that’s why I came here.”
“Well what do you want me to do about it?” She may have rolled here eyes at this point but I stopped paying attention as I was trying not jump over the counter and rip her throat out. Not one person all day had been able to help me with any of my questions and this lady was the straw that broke the camel’s back, if the straw were a bitchy middle aged postal worker.

With a calm and straight face I say something to the effect of “Listen lady, I’m sorry that you hate your life, if I were stuck in a lowsy paying public servants position I would hate my life too, but what I need from you right now is not for you to be a bitch, but simply to answer my questions as if you remotely cared about where you next pay check came from. So stop telling me that it’s not your problem because this is a post office, and you work here so I’m pretty sure it is your problem when I’m not getting my mail, because that’s your job. What I want you to do about it is to see how we can fix the missing key situation. Can you handle that?”

(I'm sure what I said wasn't exactly that mean, but if you have ever seen You've Got Mail then you would understand my lack of appropriate zingers. But this time I was on fire)

She walked away, everyone, well all three people, in the post office were staring, another lady came to the window. “Ma’am, is there a problem?”
“I just want to know how to I get a knew mailbox key?”
“You’re landlord has to find it, and if he doesn’t have it he’ll have to pay to have a new box put in.”
“Thank you that’s all I wanted to know.”
As I walked out I heard an older lady mumbling that I must be from the city. Maybe I should move to NYC, because than people wouldn’t think I was socially retarded, and people wouldn’t notice that I don’t have a filter, they would just think I were normal!

Needless to say I won't be frequenting the post office in town anymore. I'm sure they have a pencil sketch of my on the wall prohibiting my admittance anyway!