Rant and Rave

rant verb

1. To speak or write in an angry or violent manner; rave.*
2. To utter or express with violence or extravagance.

rave verb

1. To speak wildly, irrationally, or incoherently.
2. To roar; rage.
3. To speak or write with wild enthusiasm.*
4. To attend a rave.

As you know, I can rant and rave with the best of them.

When I started this blog, I didn’t want it to turn into a vehicle where just one more person wrote about what’s wrong with this world. I figured there were happy or funny happenings in my world that I could write about with positive enthusiasm. For a short time, I did just that.

Then I got a slip of paper in the mail. It was a note from my postal carrier informing me I had a delivery of a letter that required my signature. I could pick it up anytime the next day.

Not a word as to who sent it.
Not a word as to where to pick it up.

If I wanted them to attempt a redelivery, I’d have to call them, or leave instructions on my little slip of paper. This would have added yet another day or two before I discovered what my mysterious package was.

I headed to the post office I use most.

Not that I use the post office much. I pay my bills on line, do my banking on line and communicate online. Even when I use my phone, I do it online. I do my food, clothes, and gadget shopping on line. The only thing I won’t do on line is buy postage stamps. I tried that once, at Christmas time. It took them 5 days to get me postage. How can it take five days to get postage to me when a postal worker delivers my mail every day?

I eventually went to the grocery store where I bought stamps. Of course they were out of Christmas stamps, so all my Christmas cards went out with Statue of Liberty stamps. Any letter I sent out for the next 6 months after Christmas got the Christmas stamps I ordered online from the post office.

I figure if the US Postal service had to run a business WITHOUT government subsidy, they’d file for bankruptcy the day after their grand opening.

At the branch closest to my house I found, after getting there and waiting in line, that it does not support my zip code. The branch on the other side of town does. I leave there and head out to the other side of town. As I handed in my slip to the teller (?) at what I hope is the correct branch, I ask her if there was a reason why the instructions to pick up this letter were so woefully incomplete. She told me that it SHOULD have had the address of the pick up office in this here little window. She had no idea why it was NOT there.

I had an idea.

Is it so difficult for a branch to have either its own stamp with its address on it for stamping these slips, or better yet, a pre-printed pad of slips informing which branch has your wayward package?

I don’t know, I’d just think that the place that deals with addresses all day long would be able to deal with their own address a little better.

[My registered letter was the birth/marriage/death certificates and translations of those certificates of my grandfather, his parents and his siblings! I’ve already sent mine, my sister’s, my mother’s birth certificates to the State of Connecticut for an apostille. Hopefully, they won’t get lost in the mail.]

This entry was posted in Jure Sanguinis, The World According to Me and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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