One major trigger is proper driving practices, which would require a WHOLE other post to adequately cover. I have the most self-righteous road rage you have ever experienced. My blood pressure goes up a bit just thinking about all the different driving-stupidities I encounter regularly-- I CAN RANT FOR HOURS. Again, though, whole other post.
One of my other big issue is with lines. Or queues, for people from fancy-pants countries. I would like there to be a nationally instituted set of rules for standing in lines, which would be posted prominently in all public places where lines might occur. Like, ok, in a line at the bank, I HATE it when people don't fill out deposit slips beforehand. Especially when I am filling out my slip when they get in line, and then end up behind them as they do it when standing in front of the teller. Once I actually asked a man if he could move over so that I could make my already prepared, ahem, deposit. He did, and despite the bank employees thinking I was kinda insane, I felt triumphant for the rest of the day. Same thing with customs forms at the post office, same thing with people at the front of a long line who ask long series of questions when the answers to them are stated clearly on POSTERS on the WALL, with BIG LETTERS. These people are LITERATE. Grr.
But, ok, I have gotten off track. Set up for the story: I am a big fan of trivial rules.
I send a lot of letters and packages via the USPS, and I have a system, so pretty much everything I send, I have sent hundreds of times before in the same way. And if I have any concerns about shipping something, I make sure that it is OK'ed by the nice folks at the post office. So, a few weeks ago I was surprised and a bit peeved to get a package returned to me, addressed identically to MANY before it. I was so irked by the injustice of it, that it took me a few minutes to realize that the USPS had told me a HILARIOUS joke. (note: names and addresses were not blurred out in real life.)
You see, some rule-lovin' postal worker had decided that the return address on my letter was in the wrong place. Because of this, they decided that the envelope could not be processed. And since it could not be processed, they would have to send it back to the UN-PROCESSABLE return address. Never mind the fact that a return address is not even a legal requirement to mail a letter, it's actually entirely optional, and the fact that I had mailed the package in-person at the post office, so it had been accepted and stamped by a human postal worker who saw no problem with it. This fine inspector had decided that I should be informed that my cutesy stickers were NOT appreciated, ahthankyouverymuch, and that I really need to get my act together with my return-address-protocol.
Seriously? It's hilarious. Maybe even worth the money I had to pay to re-send it. The women at my PO thought so too, and you KNOW they deserve a laugh at the system's expense. Have I learned my lesson? Probably not, but I did get to complain about something on the interwebs, so.
2 comments:
ok, first off, i'm pretty sure that we are kindred spirits, because i complain about pretty much the same stuff. and i'm VERY BIG ON RULES. so i enjoyed your post office story so very much.
secondly, i received my alphabet print and love it even more than i can express. but then you threw in the ingrid sign language print and i nearly lost my shit! gah! you are seriously the best ever. thank you thank you thank you for making my day, my week, my month.
Er.... did you mean Britain when you referred to 'fancy-pants countries'? Because we Brits ARE the best people in the world (sorry, Russia) when it comes to queuing. We are orderly, patient, quiet, unenraged, and we can do it for hours, usually because we have to, as staff cuts have closed down every service window but one. If you listen carefully, you may catch a timid whisper from someone who has just about lost the will to live, about time having no meaning in this post office/pharmacy/supermarket/airport check-in, but if you need to pop out of line for a minute, you can be pretty sure that someone will keep your place for you till you get back. But wait until someone tries to push in - usually the ruthless elderly with sharp elbows - and see what happens!
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