WARNING: This post contains a typical “Riki’s Rant” and a bit of language.
Just as an update for those of you not totally in the know, I have moved from my little yellow townhouse and into my childhood home with my father in order to finish my last year of school and save some money and all of that good stuff. I did the proper thing and submitted a change of address through the United States Postal Service to be effective October 1st. As of today (October 17th) I still have not received any mail.
I needed to mail a couple of small packages anyway, so I made the short trip to the post office near me to get the job done and inquire about my missing mail. When I walked in the door I was greeted by a line so long that it could rival Splash Mountain at Disneyland, only instead of excited young kids anticipating a water ride I was plopped right in the very back of 25 of the most impatient waiting adults of all time. I decided that I could either be impatient and annoyed, or take a deep breath and remember that I really was in no hurry and had no place I needed to be.
I stood there patiently with some of the rudest people I have ever had the pleasure of standing in line with. The man behind me in line repeatedly said to anyone who would listen, “This place has three speeds; slow, slower, and reverse.” Ha, ha, ha, mister. It really wasn’t funny the first time, and by the fifth time it was just plain annoying. Not to mention that when you say mean things like that loud enough for the employees to hear, I guarantee their speed then becomes “so-you-think-this-is-slow, well-this-is-even-slower, and screw-you-man-in-back-of-Riki-in-line.” Seriously, I understand as well as you that this line is moving at a snail’s pace, but shut your trap. You are the type of person who is rude to your server and then will get your food spit on in the kitchen.
While standing in line and trying to remain easygoing I started to get seriously annoyed anyway. I stood there defenseless as a college-age girl chewed and snapped her gum like it was a wad of cud peppered with Pop Rocks while a man forgetting to use his inside voice took a phone call on his cell phone. I was also affronted by the man in front of me who must feel that showering regularly when it is 100+ degrees outside just is not necessary. All of this got me to thinking about what is truly rude public behavior and what is just me being a crabby bitch.
The way I see it, being in the confines of the post office is sort of like being trapped in the cabin of an airplane. It’s hot and stuffy and the air is likely recycled. We are all there waiting to be somewhere else and are almost always in a hurry to be there. Shouldn’t we offer each other some courtesies? Do we all need to hear you do business in your outside voice on your cell phone? I don’t think so. Should you respect your line-mate by not chatting their ear off when they are clearly not interested? Yes, I believe so.
I finally got up to the front counter and was greeted by a surly post office man and his frown. I explained my need to mail my packages and then broached the subject of not having received any mail at my new address.
“Did you turn in a Change of Address form?” He asked me brusquely.
“Yes, a week early to be effective on October 1st,” was my reply.
“Then you’ll get mail at your new address. It takes time.” The man looked at me with great disdain.
“It’s been seventeen days with no mail. How long should I be waiting to receive all of my bills?” I started to feel irritated and the post office man just stared at me. I tried a nicer approach, “I know you have a long line here. Is there a supervisor I can talk to?”
The post office man then took a very deep breath and answered me with great exasperation. “Unless this is a serious issue, I do not have time to go get you a supervisor.”
That is when I lost all patience.
Seriously? You don’t have enough time to go grab your supervisor, but you have ample time to blow smoke up by backside and argue with me about my missing mail? Oh, hell no. I asked again for a supervisor and watched in disbelief as the post office man huffed away mumbling under his breath. In the end I got an apology from the supervisor and not much else.
To make the rest of this long story short, I learned two valuable lessons today at the post office:
- Why it is called “going postal” when a person goes crazy
- Nothing about my missing mail
At times I feel like I am constantly battling my urge to be short-tempered and nasty to those around me while keeping my composure and staying calm when I am irritated by their actions. Every day I wake up and take a few moments to center myself and think positively about my day, but after standing in line for 45 minutes listening to my neighbors in their carious waiting-in-line activities, my nerves were frazzled and I had lost all fortitude. There has to be a way around this sort of personal meltdown.
What are your ways of centering and letting go when you are irritated to your very core?