Easy to Be Hard

So many strangers are so mean-spirited and nasty, it's getting tougher and tougher to "have a nice day" if you dare leave your home. Funny thing -- everyone is always telling you to have a nice day, despite not giving a damn about you. Most people couldn't care less if you are depressed, just found out you have cancer or have to put your dog down, they only say it so they won't be fired from their job as a supermarket checkout person, server, convenience store clerk or whatever.

Today I was actually having a nice day until I went to my local post office to mail some bills. I noticed just in time that I had put the payment slip into one envelope upside-down so that the address was not showing. Trying to open it carefully to remedy the situation, I still ripped the envelope and needed some Scotch tape to fix it. No big deal, right?

Wrong. The bitchy postmistress, who everyone in town hates because she is, well, bitchy, refused to give me some tape. "Get your own damn tape," she barked, adding, "I'm not even allowed to give you tape."  I asked if she could tape it herself. "That's not my job, you did it, you fix it!" (This is a woman who does very little work, since ours is a teeny, tiny post office with few customers, and thinks nothing of closing hours early to attend to personal business.)

I am not proud to say that I completely lost my mind, yelling vulgarities at her as I left while tossing all my collected junk mail on the floor of the facility. Then I drove home and wrote a formal complaint about her to the USPS, as if that will do anything. But it made me feel better, just like writing this is making me feel better. In fact, if I had written this post right away I might not have eaten all that peanut butter straight from the jar. (With a spoon of course, I'm not an animal.)

Peanut butter is so much nicer than most people.