The Post Office
I needed to ship a holiday gift overseas.
I went to a UPS store, because I thought it might be less crowded (lots of people sick here, and hospitals are at capacity, so my paranoid is cubed right now). I walked in and explained what I wanted (no need for fast shipping). I asked the guy how much it would cost.
He looked in a few manuals, punched a button or two, and said "One hundred and four dollars."
I gave him my very best "You're shitting me" look.
He shrugged. "UPS only does expedited shipments overseas. It's all air."
I didn't ask this question, but what the hell are other shipping services doing? Sending it across the Atlantic on a balsa raft?
So I went to the Post Office.
I generally avoid the Post Office, not because I've gotten poor service, but because it tends to be crowded. Very crowded. My decision making tree about when to spend time in a public place indoors during COVID consists of the following question: would I commit a bank robbery at this time?
I'm not going to rob a bank when it's as crowded as the Post Office.
However, the Post Office is literally a two-minute walk from the apartment, and I wasn't going to spend a hundred dollars shipping a twenty dollar gift, so off I went.
Walking up to the window at a Post Office was incredible. Behind the clerks, it looked like an episode of Hoarders. There was so much paper and envelopes and just random shit absolutely jammed back there, and it was stacked in layers that looked like geological strata.
But it was immediately clear that the clerks knew where every damn thing was back there. They were hoarder savants. It was spectacular.
Also, the clerk was unbelievably good at her job. She didn't waste a single word, but still managed to be friendly. I was out of there in less than five minutes.
How much did it cost me? Fourteen dollars.
Hopefully that balsa raft has a big sail.
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