On Saturday morning I entered a deserted Brighouse Post Office to post two items one of which was a jiffy bag going to the Republic of Ireland that Mrs Fisher had entrusted me with. I approached one of two female counter staff who were sat next to each other and was asked to put my first item on the scale, this being the local weekly newspaper that I send my mother. This passed with no remark. It wasn’t until I placed the package bound for the Republic of Ireland on the scale that I entered a bizarre nether world where commonsense has been replaced by random dice thrown diktat dreamt up by persons unknown who no doubt command large salaries and have never sent a package to the Republic of Ireland in their lives.
Counter Staff Person 1: What’s in the package love?
Me: I’m not sure. Some earrings I think.
CSP 1: If you’re not sure we can’t post it.
Me: They’re definitely earrings.
[CSP 1 now begins to feel package with both hands kneading it like its putty in need of restoration before passing the package on to CSP 2 for her opinion. Whilst all this is going on I offer to ring Mrs Fisher and ask her whats in the package. My call goes straight to message].
CSP 1: You see love if its jewelry you cant post it to Ireland.
CSP 2: [While doing the putty revitalization thing] There’s two boxes in here, it could be earrings.
[Package now goes back to CSP1 who picks up the hand held slot device that determines whether the package for posting is a letter or a parcel. The package fits through the letter slot.]
CSP: Put it back on the scale love I’ve forgotten the weight.
[I put it back on the scale].
CSP: Because it goes through the letter slot it can go letter rate so it doesn’t matter whats in it.
Me: This country is fucked.
No comments:
Post a Comment