12/17/2011

Sigh-lent Night

The small parking lot was a nightmare. Vehicles were jammed into each space, some a little crooked and others taking up more than their share. Sigh...the line at the counter would probably be long. It was one little package. It was even a flat rate, properly addressed and taped box, but it had to go today.

Sure enough, at least ten people were huddled in a makeshift line that wound towards the imposing counter where two postal clerks stood. The end of the line was more like a clot of humanity, some uncertain where they fit into the progression. There was some milling, dithering, and then positions were locked in. Sigh...order was required for the postal line. Eyes went directly to what was in each person's hands. Instant judgments were made about the time that would be taken at the counter.

Two large men, one older and one younger stood side by side, each with a pile of packages up to their noses. There was a certain atmosphere of male competition in the air. After standing in the same spot for ten minutes, the older man finally deposited his packages to the floor. He took defeat stoically, folded his arms, sighed, and then turned to discuss the weather with his competitor.

A couple stood in front of one postal worker with what looked like the last of a stack of small padded envelopes. Each stuffed like a Cornish hen went to the scale in turn.  Feet began to shuffle, anticipating movement. But alas, the woman hauled up another tote bag packed with more envelopes to be weighed. The man unloaded the bag, manila sliding over the surface of the counter. All eyes went to the floor near the man's feet. Lo and behold, there were four more tote bags just as full. A collective sigh traveled through the line and the harried clerk judicously held his inside. It's quite possible there were a few imaginary daggers that flew toward the couple and the padded envelopes.

Necks swiveled to the other clerk who had just finished with a customer's excruciating and exacting Christmas stamp purchase. The door opened with a breezy sigh that ruffled hair and papers on the wall. A short, elderly woman with a fur pillbox hat and bright red lipstick wrestled two large, clear garbage bags full of boxes through the door. A few smiles rippled over people's faces. She was the last in line. Woe to those who came behind her.

Then the line began to move, two more reached the Promised Land at the counter, while the other clerk rhythmically weighed a never ending stream of padded envelopes. Three more postal patrons laden with boxes whooshed through the door, immediate sighs escaping their lips at the sight of the line. Another five minutes passed and then the Jordan parted allowing access to the land of milk and honey. The little box was on its way with a sigh of relief just as the sun slipped behind the mountains.

1 comment:

LrdClbrn said...

Very nice and very true. Try not to do the Post Office thingy, myself, for PRECISELY this reason.

Positively encouraging

12/17/2011

Sigh-lent Night

The small parking lot was a nightmare. Vehicles were jammed into each space, some a little crooked and others taking up more than their share. Sigh...the line at the counter would probably be long. It was one little package. It was even a flat rate, properly addressed and taped box, but it had to go today.

Sure enough, at least ten people were huddled in a makeshift line that wound towards the imposing counter where two postal clerks stood. The end of the line was more like a clot of humanity, some uncertain where they fit into the progression. There was some milling, dithering, and then positions were locked in. Sigh...order was required for the postal line. Eyes went directly to what was in each person's hands. Instant judgments were made about the time that would be taken at the counter.

Two large men, one older and one younger stood side by side, each with a pile of packages up to their noses. There was a certain atmosphere of male competition in the air. After standing in the same spot for ten minutes, the older man finally deposited his packages to the floor. He took defeat stoically, folded his arms, sighed, and then turned to discuss the weather with his competitor.

A couple stood in front of one postal worker with what looked like the last of a stack of small padded envelopes. Each stuffed like a Cornish hen went to the scale in turn.  Feet began to shuffle, anticipating movement. But alas, the woman hauled up another tote bag packed with more envelopes to be weighed. The man unloaded the bag, manila sliding over the surface of the counter. All eyes went to the floor near the man's feet. Lo and behold, there were four more tote bags just as full. A collective sigh traveled through the line and the harried clerk judicously held his inside. It's quite possible there were a few imaginary daggers that flew toward the couple and the padded envelopes.

Necks swiveled to the other clerk who had just finished with a customer's excruciating and exacting Christmas stamp purchase. The door opened with a breezy sigh that ruffled hair and papers on the wall. A short, elderly woman with a fur pillbox hat and bright red lipstick wrestled two large, clear garbage bags full of boxes through the door. A few smiles rippled over people's faces. She was the last in line. Woe to those who came behind her.

Then the line began to move, two more reached the Promised Land at the counter, while the other clerk rhythmically weighed a never ending stream of padded envelopes. Three more postal patrons laden with boxes whooshed through the door, immediate sighs escaping their lips at the sight of the line. Another five minutes passed and then the Jordan parted allowing access to the land of milk and honey. The little box was on its way with a sigh of relief just as the sun slipped behind the mountains.

1 comment:

LrdClbrn said...

Very nice and very true. Try not to do the Post Office thingy, myself, for PRECISELY this reason.