MrWrong Goes to the Post Office

To the old Fart:
You must be at least 112 years old
How can this be your first time to the post office? I figure it must be since you had the clerk list EVERY possible option for mailing your package.
When the clerk finally stopped and looked hopefully at you, you began asking the most inane questions imaginable:
"Is delivery confirmation the same as certified?"...

"Will the recipient be told the package is from me?" (I still have no idea what the hell that meant)
"If I send it next-day-mail will it get there in three days?"

Ok, you I can deal with.
You're older than dirt; you get a pass.

To the Fat Woman with Dirty Feet in even Dirtier Sandals:
Here's a tip, you morbidly obese waste of air:
Have your fucking package packed and addressed before getting to the window.
You had plenty of fucking time in line.
Hell, you probably had plenty of time at home.
I'm sure you could have used the time you have saved up from not bathing for the last 2 or 3 decades
You have the dirtiest feet I have ever seen.
Their filth was only exceeded by the black sandals (which I think were originally white) you crammed your cloven hooves into
Why wait until you get to the window to address your package?
Oh? What's that? You weren't sure what state Indianapolis is in?
Idiot
I bet your friends or family in Indianapolis simply toss your package in the garbage as soon as it arrives.
I wouldn't fucking open anything from a fleabag like you.

To the Fat Guy with Dirty Overalls:
A Passport Application?
Where in the hell do you think you are going?
I had to stand and watch as you asked the clerk about what every question on the application meant including 'County of Residence'
You then started to fill in the form with what appeared to be a black crayon.
Seriously, do you really think the U.S. authorities are going to let you leave our country and travel abroad??
Where foreigners can see you?
Our reputation is bad enough.

However, it IS possible that you & Fat Woman with Dirty Feet were there together, and you think you need the passport for travel to fucking Indianapolis.

To the Woman with the Wool Hat:
Did you have to look at EVERY goddamn sheet of stamps in the place? Stamps are to be put on envelopes for mailing. Just ask for a damn roll of stamps and take whatever the clerk feels like giving you (usually an American Flag).
I'm sorry they were out of 'Quilts of America' stamps
I understand that you just had to have the quilt stamps, which, of course, you did not know existed until you saw a pic of them on the counter.
However, did you have to explain to the clerk why you like quilts? Or tell the story of the quilts your grandmother passed down to you, or that they were heirlooms, or that one of these nasty old pieces of moth-bait took 100 years to make?
I mean, who gives a fuck?

To the Man in Suit with Briefcase:
One Stamp? You literally stood in line for 30 minutes so you could check the postage on your envelope, only to be told you needed another 20 cents?

To the Pregnant Woman with Hyper Child:
I do not appreciate your child doing a war dance in front of me, or staring at me like I am the freakiest thing she has ever seen (which was a bit of a blow to my self-confidence, given some of the other people standing in line).
I do appreciate that when you reached the window that all you wanted was a Change of Address card, which the clerk pointed out were in a basket on a nearby table. Ah well, at least your child got the opportunity to irritate fellow human beings.

To the Young Woman in Front of Me: You were pretty good-looking, so I wanted to like you.
I didn't.
I was, however, very impressed, and I'm sure everyone else in the post office also was, that you are one of the very few people to have a fucking cell phone.
A point you made very clear by calling everyone you know.
I wonder what your friends really think when you call them out of the blue, when you're bored standing in line, and ask them what they are doing?
Especially when you dive right in into a detailed description of your fucking day

Take it from me, no one gives a shit what you have been doing for the past few hours, especially since you appear to lead an utterly useless, shallow, pointless life
Wow! so you got some lousy overpriced coffee at a Starbucks, then did some cardio, stopped off for a donut, and then went by the cleaners, only to find out they do not open until 10 a.m., then you dropped by the...yada yada
Who gives a fuck?
Also, don't you understand the difference between a credit card and a debit card? Is that why you asked the clerk which is the one with the numbers (I think she meant that you had to use a PIN number to activate).

Next, I have to go to the DMV
Stay tuned....