Foothills, Alberta
Postal Incident #1:
Last Christmas, I was mailing some parcels to family in BC at the Black Diamond Post Office. As I was standing in line, a man I have seen around town but never met, approached me and informed me:
“The post office parking lot is a no-idle zone”.
Me: “I realize that, and I am not idling”.
Man: “I think you are”, as he pointed at a blue truck.
Me: “I drive that black truck”, I responded, producing my keys.
Man: “Oh, okay”.
Me Thinking: “The proper response is “I’m Sorry”. – What an A-hole!
Postal Incident #2:
A few weeks ago, I purchased some items for a wedding we were hosting, from Amazon. The goods turned out not to be what we wanted, so I arranged to return them. The Amazon instructions said to print a label, attach it to the box, and take it to any Post Office, which I did.
I was standing in line at the Turner Valley PO with my parcel, which was about 8” x 8” x 36” long. A lady walked into the line behind me. Without introduction or preamble, she said:
She: “Are you dropping that parcel here?”
Me: “Yes”.
She: “When I have parcels as big as that, I take them to a courier. You should probably be at Purolator.”
Me: “The Amazon instructions said to bring it here”.
Postal Employee: “Is that an Amazon return?”
Me: “Yes”
Postal Employee: “It looks fine. Just put it over there”.
She: Mumbles some incoherent babble about over-size parcels, ….
Me: I mumble some incoherent babble about busybodies and minding one’s own business, as I walk out.
It took me a couple of days, and a retelling of these stories to several people, for me to get over the incidents. The one today might take longer.
Postal Incident #3:
Bear and I decided to go for breakfast and a bike ride this morning (Sunday). The bikes were already loaded on the back of the vehicle, so we drove to Black Diamond and had a nice breakfast at Westwood. While we were there the kids called; they are on holiday and their cat needed some attention. We decided that I would carry on with a solo bike ride, and Bear would drive to the city to attend to the beast.
We drove to a plot of land I own near the Millarville Racetrack to unload. There were two vehicles parked in our driveway, and the drivers were having a chat. I decided not to disturb them, so I drove to the next quiet intersection to dismount my bike.
I pulled in at the mailboxes on 192nd and 274th.
I was under the bike rack on the back of the Jeep, untangling a strap. I never saw him approach, but a man’s voice called out:
He: “You can’t park there”.
Bear: “We are just dropping one bike. I am not staying”.
He: “There is a $165 fine for parking there. You have to move”.
Bear: “We are only going to be 2 minutes. Are we blocking you from the mailbox?”
I emerged from under the vehicle as the do-gooder reiterated his broken record for the third time.
He: “It is illegal to park there”.
Me: “Did you not hear her? We are dropping a bike here, and she is driving the car away”.
He: Walking away. “You aren’t supposed to park at a mailbox.”
Me: Thinking: Why don’t you waddle your doughnut-enhanced ass over here and tell me that one more time. I live around here, I pay taxes here, I get my mail from one of these boxes, and I will unload my f’ing bike anywhere I bloody well please!
He: Folded his over-size carcass into his under-sized car, flipped me a pudgy bird, and slithered away.
What is it with people and postal facilities? Is there something about letterboxes that turn otherwise good people into …
… deranged do-gooders?
Deanna Paton
Oh man!!! I love this post but hate your luck with postal spot! That black cat of ours that you’ve been looking after may have crossed your path to much… or the one you own…
Ps: thanks for looking after the cat and not mailing him somewhere!
Russ Paton
Having reread the post, I must have still been a little cranky when I wrote it.
Furg and Leroy have more common sense than a lot of folks we run into out here. Happy to help with “City Furg”….