Sep
25
Invest in Rubber Futures, Seriously
Filed Under bitching
When did the post office start using so many friggin’ rubber bands? In the old days, the mail carrier would actually have to rub two brain cells together and match up the number on the letter with the number on the house. This was craftily done in real-time, on the fly, with angry dogs in hot pursuit. Nowadays we’re depleting the world’s rubber supply so that these dipshits can deliver an entire bundle of the wrong mail to my house instead of just a single letter.
I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be disrespectful but we enjoy the distinction of having the world’s worst post office right here in my neighborhood. The service at the walk-up window is bad on an olympic level. One clerk for a line of 15 people and another clerk looking over her shoulder while mowing through a bag of chips. They’re both surly as rattlesnakes and the line moves slower than New York traffic. It’s maddening.
They will routinely disappear into the back room for 10 or 15 minutes looking for someone’s package - a long line of customers left staring into that stylish, bulletproof room with nary a sign of human life. Please, make it stop.
My post office has one of those news ticker things with information about all the wonderful services they offer. Unfortunately, they’re not big on grammar so the ticker informs you that they now _except_ credit cards. It’s as if the ticker was programmed by a pro athlete. Ouch! That’s gotta hurt.
I’m the kind of person who can’t just throw crap in the garbage can. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with this rubber band. Maybe I can use it. I’ll just put it in a drawer. And I better pick up all the other rubber bands that the letter carrier dropped on my sidewalk and put them in the drawer too.
So now I have roughly a metric ton of rubber bands in a kitchen drawer and if I don’t clear them out soon, the entire kitchen could very well collapse under the strain. Can you recycle these things?
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