Milita!

"I’m so pissed! I’m joining a fucking militia"--Jason A. Wendleton (furious)

I’m pretty sure that the most insidious organization on the face of the Earth is the United States Postal Service. In general, the quality of service in this country is on the decline—but the Postal Service is the undisputed King of disservice. When I first started working I was a clerk at Walgreens. If I ever ignored a customer, argued with a customer, flat-out refused to help a customer…I’d have been fired (like the guy who rode one of those Razor flip-scooters through the Pharmacy Drive-Thru).

People who work at the Post Office seem to not be too worried about their jobs. I’m not sure what they tell these people when they’re hired, but I imagine it’s something along the lines of: “Congratulations! You can’t EVER be fired…go nuts!”

Like retail stores, some Post Offices are worse than others…and sadly the area the Post Office is located does seem to correlate with how crappy you will be treated. Poorer neighborhoods have the worst Post Offices. Growing up in the “digital age,” I had little use for the Post Office…until I moved to St. Louis to attend college. I lived on Campus and soon discovered that there are some things you just can’t email. The Post Office nearest the dorms I lived in was in a pretty crappy part of town. Luckily for me it was manned by some of the most racist people I’ve ever met.

I was ignored. People cut in-front of me (and no one said anything). I was berated once for using the wrong label/Postal envelope combination. There were never any pens in the waiting area—so you couldn’t fill out your stupid postal forms or envelopes. Once a Postal Employee made me sign my debit card before I could pay (I don’t sign my debit card, I write “SEE ID” on the back in red Sharpie, because I want to be carded in case someone ever steals my wallet). Whenever I had my arms full of packages or envelopes, it seemed like all but one window would suddenly close.

This is probably the part of bureaucracy I loath the most—four people behind the counter, eight people waiting in line, and only ONE person with an open window. I hate this at the bank, the DMV, the gas station, and especially the Post Office.

One day I snapped. One day I had enough.

What happened was a perfect storm of crap. I went to the Post Office to mail some paperback books for an online book swapping club that Leah and I use to save money on books. I had a small stack of pre-wrapped paperbacks in my hand. The second I walked in I took a number. The woman behind the counter saw me and sneered. She immediately quit using the number system, probably to discourage me. Soon it was a crazy free-for-all. After three people who arrived after I me had made their way up to the window, I was finally able to approach.

“Can I help you?” she asked in that surly, bitchy way that really says “Fuck off, I don’t want to help you.”

I told her that I wanted to ship my books, and she began to lazily drag the books across her scanning device. Each book was slowly keyed into her system. This whole visit had taken thirty minutes of my time. Not an eternity, but way longer than it should have. But I was feeling okay because I was about to be done. I was about to be free!

And then the moment came to pay.

I was given a total and I took out my debit card and swiped it on the credit machine at the end of the counter.

Nothing happened.

I looked up and the woman behind the counter arched a thickly penciled eyebrow and smirked.

“It’s broken. We can’t do debit or credit right now.”

“Are you serious?”

She nodded.

I sighed, “Ugh. What am I supposed to do? I don’t have any cash.”

“You can go across the street…I think they have an ATM.”

I had waited for over twenty minutes for nothing. Why didn’t they put up a sign? Why didn’t they let people know that they had to use Cash or check only today? I was livid. You know the saying “I was seeing red”? Well I was seeing it…and boy…was it red.

People love to tell me about my “anger problem.” Well you know what? I have a problem—it’s a “people-can’t-help-but piss-me-off” problem if you want to know the truth. I can handle some crazy shit. I know people don’t think that I can, but I can list examples. Like the time someone plowed into my car at work. I was totally cool. I didn’t yell and I wasn’t mad. It was out of my control. It happened, why get upset?

People can cut in front of me in the Post Office. They can sneer at me. They can make me wait 30 minutes to spend $15. They can even tell me (after the fact) that their debit machine is broken. My weakness is that after swallowing so many bites of the world’s shit-sandwich, I spit throw it back up.

I didn’t yell at the woman (though I did let her know I was upset). Instead, I swore right then and there to NEVER go back into that Post Office again (and I haven’t). I also got into my car and called Leah.

“Leah! I’m so pissed! I’m joining a fucking militia,” I spat at her.

Leah was clearly confused as to what I was talking about.

“The Government! They need to be brought down! The Post Office is a fucking joke!”

I truly believe that everyone is super-right wing whenever the chips are down…I mean really down. When the shit hits the fan, we’re not John Kerry.

We’re not even George W. Bush.

We are Dick Cheney. And we are going to bomb your fucking desert. We are going to shoot our hunting buddies head ALL THE WAY OFF.

I never did join that militia, and I never “took down the government,” though someone should probably get around to doing that…if for no other reason—than to close all those worthless Post Offices.