I’ll do anything to avoid making another trip to the post office in NYC. The employees are probably the most miserable people on this planet, and they’re so uptight that a missing pen is grounds for making a scene.
The other day, I went over to the Chelsea post office to send some gifts out to our readers. When I got to the post office window, the attendant told me to fill out some more forms for the shipping process. I was without a pen, so I asked to borrow one. This was the worst thing I could have done, as the employee was not keen on providing me with a writing utensil.
“You can use my pen, but for the love of God, bring it back when you’re done,” she said, causing me to giggle. It seemed like kind of a dramatic statement about a pen, but I didn’t think much on the order as I completed my paperwork.
Moments later, a fellow customer asked if he could use the pen, so I handed it off to him. When I returned to the attendant’s desk, one of the postal workers demanded to know the pen’s whereabouts.
“Excuse me, young lady, my colleague needs to know what you’ve done with her pen,” the woman said. “She wants to know where it is this instant.
“I gave it to another customer,” I said, pointing to the man behind me in line.
“Which guy?! We need it right now. My coworker is going to lose it if she doesn’t get that pen back.”
Just to clarify, this was no special pen. The Bic product didn’t even have a cap. It barely contained any ink. I know the postal service is struggling financially right now, but could not understand why such drama would ensue from an MIA pen
“Where is the pen, ma’am?” the worker asked.
“I have no idea, it’s a PEN FOR GOD’S SAKE!” I said, causing her to laugh. Even she knew the request was absurd. All I can say is that I’d rather eat pig’s feet than return to that miserable building.
On a happier note, I finally got a real bed for myself! The air mattress, which I used for a month, was beginning to take a toll on my lower back. I can’t tell you how good it feels to be sleeping on a real bed again. My DC mattress, which belonged to Monique, was a twin. I was incredibly grateful that they loaned it to me, but kind of sad that I didn’t just surrender and purchase a full or queen sized mattress. As it turned out, it’s good that I held off on buying a mattress. Maybe I knew deep down that I was going to move to NYC within months.
I hate to leave you hanging, but I’m taking off right now. One of the grumplestilskin hipster Bourbon Coffee employees has been giving me the death glare ever since he shouted down and bossed around a female customer an hour ago, so it’s in my best interests to leave this place and never return. Besides, I enjoy the atmosphere of Think Coffee a great deal more, so perhaps I’ll relocate there and write something else up. I have a lot to update you on but cannot shed light on everything until I get away from this creepy creep, so bear with me as I leave the premises for a healthier, less hostile environment.