Going Postal

Perhaps those of you who have attended the U of S have, at one time or another, attempted to post a letter or package at the Place Riel Post Office. And if so, perhaps you were served by a portly, curly-haired postal employee with a mean streak. Some days, angry postal lady is civil. I wouldn't go so far as to say that she can be polite or friendly, but she does, on occasion, manage civility. However, she has, in the past, insulted me.

One time I was involved in one of those ridiculously complicated transactions with which we all sometimes become entangled at a place of business. You know, it's like when you get to the till and they ring up your item and you hand them a twenty, but then remember that the item was on sale. So they call for a price check and you feel obliged to smile apologetically at your fellow customers in the line.

Finally, the price check lackey arrives with the correct price, but the cashier is having trouble voiding or correcting the previous amount. So then you offer to give them the exact change, but you need them to break the twenty dollar bill first. In order to do that you have to buy gum. And then you get the wrong change back from the gum and both you and the clerk are left scratching your heads, sharing the lingering impression that one of you has just committed an embarrassingly stupid mathematical error.

Well, that's the sort of situation I was in at the post office once, except that instead of both parties agreeing to sublimate that lingering mathematical insecurity, Angry-Postal-Lady asked me the following question in front of a rather large group of postal patrons: "What are you studying?" And I responded, somewhat, as you can imagine, confused by the question, "English Literature." Angry-Postal-Lady snorted and said, "Good, because you clearly aren't good at simple math!" To which I indignantly, and vainly responded, "Well, I speak three languages!" And then I trotted away to nurse my fragile, grad student ego. Consequently, I have determined that she is, in fact, the ultimate cliché: an angry postal employee who simply dislikes her fellow humans.

But finally, after three long years, I was vindicated. Although I have learned to avoid the Place Riel post office, I had need of some postal services while on campus. So, manila envelope in hand I approached the post office and saw that Angry-Postal-Lady was in, as she invariably is, but that she was accompanied by a pleasant looking woman I had never seen before. I stood in line at Pleasant-Looking-Woman's window, but alas, Angry-Postal-Lady was disoccupied first. I reluctantly approached her, but inwardly I promised myself that she would get her comeuppance.

I placed my yellow envelope before her and said, "I need to send this to Vegreville, Alberta and I want to know how much it will cost." She did not speak or acknowledge me in any way, but she took took the envelope and weighed it. She then addressed Pleasant-Looking-Woman and asked, "How much is 29 plus 34?" I watched with interest as Pleasant-Looking-Woman grabbed a calculator and announced, laughing nervously, "Sixty-three...I know it's terrible that I had to use a calculator to do that!" I wondered if Angry-Postal-Lady had at some point also insulted Pleasant-Looking-Woman's math skills, and I gloated inwardly since Angry-Postal-Lady had not been able to do that simple math in her head either!

But then Angry-Postal-Lady, with her Harperesque shark eyes, asked, "Do you want to send this regular mail or express?" Well, of course I wanted to send it the cheapest way possible and so I asked what the difference in price would be. I learned that it would be two dollars or so to send it through the regular mail, but it would take four days, and that it would be nine dollars by express, but it would be there in only two days. I opted for the regular mail and asked for package tracking as well, to which Angry-Postal-Lady responded by sneering, "That's why I told you to take the express!"

At that moment, I had two options: 1) Follow my usual instinct of politeness and apologize for not having understood or, 2) Give her a taste of her own Angry-Postal-Ladyness. So I retorted, "Well, you didn't explain that!" I perceived an instant change in Angry-Postal-Lady, I had pierced her mean armor with a bit of her own meanitude. She softened and actually looked me in the eyes when she said, "Oh! I'm sorry."

It was an incredible victory. After the Daniela Forces had been beaten for so long on the Postal Plains, they had finally out-flanked the Angry-Postal-Lady's minions and had won a small victory. There was much rejoicing.