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Back to the scene of the crime

What is wrong with me? I returned to the post office on Beverly and yet again bad things happened. My labels got stuck in the printer at the remote self help machine. I went to the line.  Once I got to the front I got the middle aged asian guy. I like his face. He always has a natural smile. He’s patient. He’s my favorite. He stamped my envelopes and sent them through. Phew. No parking lot issues this time. Time of day; about an hour earlier than when I was there last. Time of day is KEY.


Fender Gender

Despite my better instinct yesterday I found myself at the Beverly Post Office, the one by the Grove, the one with the rude people and impossible parking. Not the PO staff – they are lovely and have been there forever. I especially like the Chinese middle aged guy – he’s always so patient. I’m talking about the people who use this particular PO; they’re not so patient.  I think this is where the term PO’d comes from.

Today I had two ebay autions to mail out and used the automatic machine for priority mail. In and out in five minutes. I get to my car in the crowded parking lot, look to make sure no one is coming. It takes a while because there are cars going both directions and also backing out from behind. And one stupid car sitting there waiting for a spot. I am about to back out when I see an affable young man standing in front of my car. Is he really going to try and direct me I am thinking. I dare to roll down my window and say “I think I got this, but thanks.” He says, “No I was just waiting to get into my side oor.” Oh. I laugh and say, “Oh sorry, I will get out of your way.”  This time I forget to look and start backing up, right into a white car. He says “Stop!” but it’s too late. Crunch.  He makes a face.

Serves me right. I should have asked him to help me rather than chastise him when he wasn’t even trying to help me. He gives up on getting in his side door and ducks out of the way, never to be seen again.
I get out of my car. The lady I hit is not so nice. It’s barely a scrape – we merely exchanged some paint. To be honest my car is the worse off but she’s being difficult about it so we exchange information. I consider giving her a wrong number but no, I pull out my business card and everything. I tell her it will buff out but she says she is not sure. I say the damage is worse on my end and she whines in her slightly British accent “You backed into my car!”

I didn’t even try and argue with her. But whereas the guy was so nice but in the end was no help at all, the woman was rude. But it was nothing. I bet if the roles were switched he would have let it go.

I don’t think she’ll bother to call. She was just miffed.

I am never going to that post office again.