10 and a half months. I've lived here at this particular address for 10 and a half months. Know how many complains I've lodged with the post office?
12.
Damn. I didn't realize just how anal I was till I went back through my files and counted. (Yes, I do file stuff like that. Yes, that contributes to the anal-ness. Yes, I am considering therapy for my problems.) That's more than one incident a month. Pretty bad track record, even for an office managed by a guy name T-Cat with hair down to his waist.
There have been lost packages, smashed packages, opened packages, packages not picked up, packages dropped outside the door and left in the rain, packages jammed in the door, and more lost packages. And now I'm on a first name basis with Mr. T-Cat.
Today is the beginning of a new era though. I opened my door and nearly tripped over a package. On my mat. All the way up here. On the third floor. Sweet postal gods, someone did their job!
Apparently, my route has become such a nuisance that not only do I have a brand new post lady delivering everything, but she is under orders to bring my packages all the way up to my door.
So, the new motto is going to be 'just bitch harder' and maybe things will get done.
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4 comments:
It's that whole "squeaky wheel gets the oil" deal - you go girl! Bitch as loud as you can stand it - maybe the PostLady can do something about those nasty drum playing neighbours of yours, now that you have her under her thumb??
Under YOUR thumb...sorry, tired.
I'm glad things are happening, finally. It does pay to complain.
Hey, I'd love to do a shirt for you, but I need to know the size.
AWESOME! Yeah, my mom is the same way at her apartment complex and after numerous complaints, her needs have been met. Hey, if that's what it takes, go for it!
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