I think I’ve established that I have one of the crappiest mail delivery services anywhere. I never know from one day to the next whether my mail will actually arrive, which rather stinks when I’ve gone out on a limb and placed an order that the USPS must deliver to my house. I go out of my way to use FedEx or UPS whenever possible, even if it’s a tad more expensive, but sometimes I don’t get an option.
Last week, I placed a group order with a couple of my Sisters of the Wool for some Wollmeise. I’ve ordered from Claudia before, and I was pleased at the speed of delivery. That must have been a good week for the USPS, because this time, it took longer. Yesterday, the doorbell rang, and though I scrambled to get to the door, the mail carrier was back in his truck and half-way down the street before I got there. Lying on the doorstep was a package from Amazon.com (my other addiction), so I figured, “Bummer deal. No Wollmeise today.”
This morning, I checked the mail at our mailbox, and what did I find? A delivery slip from the USPS. It said that I needed to come to the post office to pick up a package for which a signature was required. Why the postal carrier couldn’t wait the freaking minute or two that it took me to get to the door so I could sign for it there, I don’t know! So I dutifully headed off to the Post Office to pick up the package.
Our local Post Office is every bit the humming hub of efficiency that one would expect from an organization that supports the kind of employees that deliver the mail to our house. That is, it sucks!
I went to the “fast pick-up” door and rang the bell. And knocked. And rang the bell again. No answer. So I went inside and got in line with a whole bunch of other equally disgusted people. In the twenty minutes that I waited, I got to hear all sorts of horror stories from locals who have had to endure the poor service for even more years than I have. Finally, it was my turn.
I went up to the window, delivery slip and driver’s license in hand, and asked for my package. The customer service lady asked me to wait a minute and disappeared into the back. I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, after about five minutes, she returned with the package in hand.
The look that I gave her must have said, “What the bloody heck?” because she smiled sheepishly and said, “I couldn’t get to it. You have to understand. It was in the safe.” I then had to sign and print my name twice (plus hand-write my address) in order for the glorious package to be entrusted to my care.
At least the USPS has its priorities in order.
I still haven’t opened the package. Since tonight is knit night, I’m going to wait to open it with the Sisters of the Wool. No one should be deprived the joy of opening of a Wollmeise package! Yarn pr0n will appear tomorrow, maybe.