Wednesday, October 19, 2005

and the bright side is least he's not my brain surgeon.

My postman (the translation for you freaks is 'mailman') habitually leaves the mail he's delivered hanging half arsed out of my letterbox (aka 'mailbox'). It's a signature, of sorts, and ordinarily I roll my eyes, thank fuck he's not my obstetrician either because, yikes, and forget about it until the next day when Moron McMoron does it again.

I'm not sure what it is he thinks he's paid to do, because I can't imagine the words 'delicately place a corner of the envelope into the mail slot' would be found anywhere in his job description.

Wonderboy's job today was to successfully deliver a large envelope marked with the words 'Important', 'Documents' and 'Do Not Bend'. That my letterbox is too small to follow that directive shouldn't pose a problem as the available - and some would say, only option is to leave a postal note in lieu of the undeliverable mail, advising that the mail can be collected from the post office itself. Dicknose must be on drugs have missed that class, because he folded the envelope in half, gingerly poked a corner of it into the letterbox, and went on his merry way, tra la. That would be teeth grindingly annoying on it's own, yes? But what if we add in a factor of Pissing With Rain into the equation? Then multiply that by a factor of All Day And My Mail Was Delivered This Morning? Wonder not, because I'm here to tell you that the result is Ruined Important Documents and one Mad As A Wet Hen aibee.

You bet your arse I complained about it, and you can bet your other arse that someone else is going to be paying the fifteen bucks it costs to get the paperwork replaced.

(actually, the post office was really nice about it, very apologetic, and you could practically hear eyeballs rolling when I told a story that must have been repeated several times already today)

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