Wednesday, June 25, 2008

So much news and so little time...

that I'll avoid the big stuff altogether and write about something funny that happened at the post office. Something funny always happens at the post office...I think it's because it serves as both a post office and a bank, and as a result has an enormous identity crisis.

I love our town here for so many reasons, but one of them is that I think people are generally nice to one another. And having a baby means that every time I leave the house at least one stranger -- usually a grandparent -- will stop and talk to us. I feel comfortable here and am slowly starting to initiate conversations on my own. It's clear though that I still need to be able to better filter who I do this with.

Today when I went to pick up a registered letter (housing contract -- woo!) there was an elderly woman who was ranting and raving about how the wheelchair lift was broken again. In all fairness I do have to agree that the thing does seem to break down on a regular basis and it took me a couple of times just to figure out how to coax it into working when it is supposedly in operation. Now I try to avoid it altogether and just carry the stroller up the stairs, but I can see how that is not necessarily the ideal solution for someone of her age and size.

The lady helping me -- originally the target of the rant -- said that 5 minutes ago someone had used it with a stroller and it was working fine then. The elderly lady just shouted more loudly and this prompted the post office employee to duck into the back room and get my letter. This left the elderly lady to continue shouting by herself as she shuffled towards the door with her walker/shopping bag.

I don't have a living grandparent and I decided that if she were my grandmother, even as ornery as she clearly was, I would want someone to try to help her. Carrying her on my back was out of the question since she was quite portly, so I opted for trying to be helpful with how to get it to work better. This was obviously the wrong option because she only started shouting more loudly and was offended that I had implied she didn't know how to operate the stupid lift. I was torn between backing away slowly and fleeing. I fled.

Helpful post office lady had returned by that time so I got my things together and left. Crochety old lady was taking a break halfway down the stairs, shouting anew at some man about a different topic. I skittled down the stairs and speed-walked to the safety of my car.

3 comments:

Chris said...

You always have the best post office stories.

Anonymous said...

bless your heart, I knew you would try to help, but sometimes it just doesn't pay. I love your blogs and get a real kick out of reading them. Been to smocking class today working on wee ones for the hospital for the premies or tiny ones. Will discuss that later. Loved the little one on the wordless

KathyUSA said...

He he he! That silly old lady! I can see you going for the escape! Carma will get her!