a trip to the post office

Every time I go to the post office I end up writing about it. Maybe that's why they call it the post office. Because that's where you go to get post ideas. To the office of posts.

I thought I had a relatively simple thing to do. I thought the line would be short. I thought I would be in and out. Oh how wrong I was...

I went to the post office yesterday to rent a PO Box. I could do it online, but you still need to go down there and pick up the keys, so I figured I would just do the whole thing in person. I thought it would be easier. ha ha.

I get there and there is a 7 person line. Longer than I was expecting but there were two tellers so no big deal. Well, about 35 seconds later the lady teller begins processing a passport. Yeah, a passport! Complete with taking their picture and everything. I slowly make my way to the front of the line and tell the guy I need to rent a PO Box and hand him my application.

Blank stare.

I explain again that I need a PO Box.

He gets a panicked look and starts fiddling with my application. "umm.... umm... uhhh... I don't know how to do these. You will have to wait for her (the teller doing the passport). I'm sure she will be just a few minutes." Ok, fine. I step to the side... and wait... and wait... and wait.

I'm not kidding you.... an hour later I get my turn. A fricken hour!! It was waaaay past lunch time and Connor had long since worn out his welcome.

Which brings me to another point. Normally in public I try to make Connor stay near me, be fairly quiet, stand up, not touch things, ect. You know... I make him behave. But the longer I stood there the more lax I became. After 15 minutes I let him talk to strangers. After 30 mintues I didn't stop him from wandering around. After 45 minutes I allowed him to play with the postal scale. After 60 minutes I turned away while he made dirt angels on the floor. That's when I knew things had gone horribly awry.