Some of us get really nervous and confused when we have to choose the right forms to fill out at the post office. We are post office wimps.
We look at the line of customers waiting to be served. . There are fifteen people ahead of us, and, oh yes, there is one postal worker behind the counter.
We look at the many forms in their neat little stacks on the writing counter adjacent to the people on line. We ponder, “Golly, which one do I need?”
Then we look up at the signs over the postal worker’s head. These signs are supposed to help us. We study the signs. They do not help us, and we feel stupid.
We look back at the fifteen people on line, and wonder, if they would just let us ask one teeny, tiny question of the nice postal worker behind the counter.
One look at their snarling faces tells us, “Don’t even think of asking a question ahead of us.
So, we wait on the end of the line and start filling out the forms that we think are correct.
Three more people come in to the Post Office and, since we are not finished with our forms, we invite them to get on line ahead of us.
They do. Then they whip out their pens and start filling out their forms on the counter.
Because we are wimps, we say nothing.
We wait on line. Finally, we hear our “Next,” and we advance to the desk.
One form (the green one) is right, but the other one is totally wrong. The post office worker tells us what color to get. Before we leave her window, we whisper, ever so softly, “Can I come right back up to you and not have to stand in line again?”
She didn’t even have to talk. Her look said it all.
We mince right back to the end of the line which now has 17 people on it. We fill out the form and get on the back of the line again.
Overcome with frustration, nerves and the need to eat a half gallon of Haagen Dazs, we walk off the line and out of the post office, get in our car, and drive fifteen minutes to the post office in the next town. We know that there is a 7-11 store in that strip mall, and they sell Rum Raisin.
No one is on line, and the kindly postal worker helps us mail our letter. We go next door and buy a pint of Haagen Dazs Rum Raisin.
So, that’s why we need Greeters at the Post Office. Greeters will help us wimps stay on our diets.
The Nothing Expert 
Funny you should write about the post office today. I went there this morning to find a form for them to hold my mail while I’m away. I found the form and was standing on the long line with my one form which just had to be handed in to someone. One of the clerks saw me with the yellow form and motioned me over to her window. She took my form and wished me a nice day! I was floored…she made my day!!!
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I was more worried about the people on line who were just waiting to say, “Go ahead. Make my day.”
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the US Postal Service is in very bad debt so they are cutting service and workers like mad, or at least here in our town. However, I have this wonderful secret, a contract postal station in a very upscale shopping center where I do all of my postal service stuff . Actually, it’s not all that much of a secret, but it is so lovely. The workers are wonderful, there’s hardly any wait, and anything that is mailed there gets magically delivered the next day. I have no idea how this happens, it just does. There was once threat of closing this magical station and such an uproar poured out of the populace that uses this station that it was quickly reinstalled and we have all lived happily ever after.
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Contract postal station??? I don’t know what that is, but I’d like to find out.
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