Mrs. HM Got A Snootful

Thursday I went to the main post office over in Sis-Town to get stamps. They have taken down the sign on the door that said masks must be worn. They have also taken down the sign on the inside glass doors from lobby to desk area that said only two people at a time were allowed in.

I could see three men inside. One at the counter, one in line behind him, at a distance, and another distanced man, with a cane, whom I had followed from the parking area. I was going to wait on my side of the glass doors, but then I noticed the TWO PEOPLE sign was gone, and I also saw that one man was on his way out.

 

All the customers, as well as the clerk, were wearing masks. So I took my St. Louis Blues version out of my jacket pocket and strapped it on. I could play along for the time it would take to get stamps. Maybe there was a sign I had missed. It IS a federal facility, you know.

I stepped inside, and waited behind Caner, who was waiting for Packager to do his business. I swear. People who come to the post office with their item, ask which package would be best, then ask to get it ready right there at the counter! What is WITH those people???

PO Clerk at least asked Packager to stand aside. She even gave him a big roll of industrial tape (my tax dollars at work) to apply to his package, heh, heh. She motioned Caner forward.

Sweet Gummi Mary! I feel for Caner. I do. He was asking about a missing package. Said someone or something told him it was delivered, but it wasn't. That it said it was IN TRANSIT, at the main post office. Oh, my poor misguided Caner! That's the runaround! 

PO Clerk told him that she had no way of checking on where his package was. He kept insisting that it was blue. They told him the package was blue. That's a new on one me. PO Clerk told him that even if she brought up his tracking number on her very slow computer, it would only show her the parking lot out back. That he would just have to wait for it to arrive.

I can understand Caner's frustration. He was not an angry dude. Just baffled as to where his blue package might be. My gripe with Caner is that he lingered. PO Clerk had clearly told him she was sorry, but she had no way to find his package. Maybe he hasn't been out much. It was like a social event for him, chatting and soaking up her sympathy. If he kept that up much longer, I was going to need his cane!

But here's my REAL GRIPE! Yes. I often have more than one. My REAL GRIPE is with the woman who came in behind me, as soon as that first guy went out the door.

We shall call her SNIFFY.

I'm pretty sure that tells you what you need to know. I was vaguely aware of her entering. I'd caught her out of the corner of my eye as I went into the lobby, getting out of her car. She was maybe my age. No spring chicken. Not a doddering dowager. There was really no room for her inside, not to stay socially distanced. So there she was, creeping up on me, lest she have to stand against the glass doors.

I wasn't happy about her closeness, but I could deal with her for the time it took me to buy stamps. I turned my back, and leaned on a high table where people can fill out change of address forms.

"SNLUUUURRRRRP!"

SNIFFY WAS SNORTING HER SNOT UP INTO HER BRAIN!

Sorry. That is just nasty in these times. It wasn't a little sniffle, like if the cold air makes your nose drip when you go inside. It was snotty congestion being retrieved from thieving gravity. Who goes out while they're SICK these days? It's not like she was WORKING there!

I kind of shuddered. Heave a masked sigh. Halfway turned my head, but didn't look at her. Just showed her that I was aware of her shenanigans. She did that SNLUUUURRRRRP thing about forty-eleven more times while I waited!

When Caner started hobbling toward the glass doors, still while having his ME-TIME with PO Clerk, I turned to face the main counter, so Packager and Sniffy would know I was there waiting my turn, not filling out a change of address form. I saw out of the corner of my right eye that Sniffy was taking a mask out of her purse. Maybe she needed it to catch her unsniffed snot.

MY TURN! I asked for my two books of stamps. I got flags, and a tasteful set of winter scenes. Maybe I'll remember to get a picture of them. Anyhoo... my cost was $22.00. I didn't have a lot of cash on hand, so I planned to use the debit card. NOT because I don't want to handle filthy VIRUS cash. I think that card-reader is much filthier. Anyhoo... the card reader was attached to the counter, on the other side of the hanging plastic that supposedly saves the lives of the PO workers.

"Hey. How does this work? I can't see it through the plastic."

"Oh. You just slide your card in the bottom. It has the slot. That's actually a clear shower curtain, ha, ha. A $4 shower curtain, not Plexiglass."

"I can see it wavering around with the air currents."

"Yeah. It's not very see-through."

"If I was using it for a shower curtain, though, I'd be afraid it was TOO see-through!"

I wish I could have ripped that thing down and wrapped it around the head of Sniffy! As I made my getaway, I heard her say that she was only there to buy stamps! You can get stamps out an ATM, you know, at my bank with only three drive-thru lanes. No need to cram your diseased schnoz into an enclosed space with healthy schnozzes.