Fragile Liquid Perishable or Potentially Hazardous?
Satan at Window One. He summoned me.
I shoved my envelopes Satan’s way.
“No. NO. These are not complete. You go over there and do these right, and come back.”
“But, I just have to finish the city and state on the one, and you can do the other while I—”
“I DON’T CARE!!!!!!!!!’ Satan roared. “THEY ARE NOT COMPLETE!!!!!!!!!!! GO OVER THERE AND FINISH AND COME BACK WHEN I HAVE AN OPENING!!!!!!!!”
It took all of three seconds. I waited while a man brought in wads of cash, garnered from who-knows-where, to purchase a money order. Satan never asked him about the provenance of said cash. He never scolded the dude for not having counted it ahead of time. The bastard even HELPED him thumb through the untraceable dough.
After five minutes of one-hundred two-hundred twenty-hundred, I finally had my turn at Window One.
“Do these packages contain anything fragileliquidperishableorpotentiallyhazardous?”
“Well, they’re tax returns, as you can see, and—”
“I CANNOT PROCESS THESE IF YOU DON’T ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!!!!!!!”
“YES OR NO. THE ANSWER IS YES OR NO. FRAGILELIQUIDPERISHABLEORPOTENTIALLYHAZARDOUS.”
This whole encounter with YOU is all of the above, you bureaucratic Satan………I tasted blood on my tongue. “No. The answer is no. I am mailing tax returns. You are welcome to open the envelopes and make sure I am not a terrorist.”
“DON’T SMART-MOUTH ME.” Satan screeched it as he weighed-and-stamped my parcels, affixing the green certified labels in just-the-right spots.
Thank God I did not try to do that part myself. Who knows WHAT he would’ve screamed at me for putting them in the wrong places.
When he handed me a receipt, his face was lit up with all kinds of Doctor Evil. “It’s a hard knock life, girl. Have a good weekend.”