Misanthropy at the P.O.

To the surly #37205 Belle Meade postal employee who takes such perverse delight in making every transaction unpleasant for everyone, and in whose motionless queue I stood for 45 minutes before surrendering my spot to the 2d desperate applicant you turned away with unsympathetic coldness 35 minutes in advance of the posted cutoff:

I took my own passport business elsewhere (37132, en route to the Lyceum) and was met with friendly, efficient, human service. In and out in ten minutes, without residual sorrow or contempt for my species on account of the needlessly officious rudeness of its worst exemplars. Try to do better, sir.

The old bumper sticker is right, especially when it comes to the “civil servants” who are supposed to be working for (and not against) us.

Had to get that off my chest, on a Saturday morning that’s already seen the rainout of Younger Daughter’s two scheduled morning ballgames. We don’t need to create gratuitous clouds for ourselves, Mr. Postman. Lighten up.

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