post offices

So I am always bitching about post offices. It is really frustrating to be staring at someone who controls your mail and is totally vacant.

Not that ALL people at post offices suck. Just the ones at the PO near me. Just a few weeks ago I had to send 4 big boxes of books to Armenia.

(Long story sidebar here: I have a John [not John like in the prostitute sense, that is his name] in Armenia in the Peace Corps. He asked me if my company ever donates books. I went through a big ordeal in order to get books that were going to be thrown in the trash, and finally got them together to send to this other guy. Wait, this story really wasn't so long.)

So I spent some time finding out the best way to send things, and they have M-bags if you are sending books or journals or any publication. You can send 66 pounds in 1 bag, and it is just $66 dollars. Or something close to that. I go to the post office to pick them up one day.

"Hi, I have to send a bunch of books to Armenia, I think that M-bags are the best way..."
"....."
"OK, so does that make sense? Are they the best way to send this stuff?"
"..... What?"
"To send about 4 boxes all filled with books, they are about 25 pounds each. Do I do the M-bags?"
"....."
"Ok, so do you CARRY M-bags? I read that most post offices don't have them."
"yeah."
"Can I have them?"
"How many do you want?"
"4?"
[she walks away, with the speed of a dead snail.]

I stand there and wait a full 5 minutes. So my helpful friend returns with these giant sacks. They appear to be the stupidest idea ever: giant sacks for books/periodicals? Why? Who is going to lift that? Whatever, I take them.
At that point the woman next to me working at the PO, not even the woman helping me, turns around and says, "Just when are you going to mail those?"
"I guess tomorrow, maybe later in the wee-"
"Oh, 'cause I was gonna say, we are closing soon. Ha. As long as it ain't today."

I look up at the clock which reads 4:42. They close at 5. Apparently I can't mail my M-bags with only 20 minutes for them to figure out how to mail things.

(Another story side-note: I went to this same post office to mail John a package about a year before. I fill out all the international crap, customs forms, etc. I get up to the counter and the woman goes, "I thought you were sending this internationally."
I look blankly at her and say, "yeah..."
"Well, your package says it is going to AMERICA."
I check my own writing, making sure I didn't do it wrong.
"No, I'm sorry. That actually says ARMENIA."
"ARMENIA? WHAT?" She types it into her computer and up comes the name.
"Well, I never even heard of that! Hunh.")

Anyway, I take the bags and shove them in my car for another day. About a week later, I finally have the boxes packed and ready to go. Do comes to help me carry them to the post office, because they are heavy. We get there, and get up to the counter, boxes on a little cart and M-bags in hand. I had filled out most of the international shipping information, but really, isn't that stuff always confusing? So we make it to the lady. A different lady than I had the week before. She looks thrilled to be dealing with this at, again, 15 minutes to close. (I have a knack.)

I explain to her that I have the bags, but haven't yet put the boxes in. She looks at me, somewhat angrily. "It's not my job to put the boxes in the bags." Seriously? Do and I both try to explain that were we to put 2 boxes weighing about 30 pounds each in these bags, we would need to hire Hercules to come and then left it up to the counter height (which, being a shorty, is probably at about my shoulders). She rolls her eyes and says again that putting the boxes in the M-bags is not her job. After further arguing and claims of, "Well, if you want us to carry them around and back there, that is fine. Otherwise you will have to lift them up there yourself" she works on it. She then decides that only 1 box is allowed per bag. Not true, but financially it didn't matter. So we go with it. We get through all of this, and she ended up actually being nicer towards the end. I leave, and a few days later realize that in my haste (I get stressed rather easily) I didn't ask her to give me ANY of the shipping labels that the shipper gets to keep. All I have is a useless receipt showing that I paid $120 for stuff to be sent. So now I am just hoping that these things make it to the recipient. And really feeling peeved that these people have such control.