You have delivered mail to the wrong house every Friday. I have walked that mail over to the intended recipient because I believe people should get their mail. Whoever's getting my mail has so far declined to do the same courtesy for me.
Listen, motherfucker, that package is not mine and if you drop it off here, this family fucking dies.
You did not deliver mail yesterday. It was not a federal holiday. What the fuck are you doing with my goddamned mail?
I tried to call to complain but the Post Office automaton was really insistent I heard the entire privacy statement. The robot gave a small spiel and then asked, "If you'd like to hear more, press 1." Up until that point, the machine was asking me to speak. Impatiently, I just said, "No," before the instruction to press 1. That was a mistake.
Then again: "If you'd like to hear more, press 1."
Listen, you little shit, I don't care that you can fit into your daddy's uniform. You can't fucking read and that's obvious because those letters in your goddamned hand that you're delivering to me are not for me. Put them back in your bag before I tell you Santa Claus isn't real but that's a damn shame because only a mythical creature that stupid little kids believe in can deliver the mail accurately in this fucking town.
I tried to call to complain but the Post Office automaton was really insistent I heard the entire privacy statement. The robot gave a small spiel and then asked, "If you'd like to hear more, press 1." Up until that point, the machine was asking me to speak. Impatiently, I just said, "No," before the instruction to press 1. That was a mistake.
Then again: "If you'd like to hear more, press 1."
What kind of manipulative behavioral science went into that? Where's option 2? The option that doesn't care about the privacy statement or how this call is used or any of that? I just want my mail.
Mailman, male man, don't think I don't have the stubbornness of a goat donkey to wait outside for you all goddamn day just so I can confront you about what the fuck you're doing. I will because I can't wait for an hour thirteen minutes to an hour eighteen minutes on the phone listening to music that sounds like it was inspired by music inspired by Final Fantasy 6 music.
And now, I will say USPS over and over again in hopes some bureaucratic algorithm picks it up in between long sessions of being hacked by the Russians and Chinese.
I give up. I give up. This isn't even a picture of a mailman. It's a picture of a male man.
Good night.
USPS USPS USPS USPS
United States Postal Service
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