As Year 2014 comes to a close, one usually is a bit more observant than usual. And today, of all days, just had to be it. I had to go to the Post Office. This is a true social experiment unleashed. It is the only place I know (and it really is not their fault) that human intelligence is tested to the max...if you let it. The line was to the door ( I thought I had run into a time warp and it was December 17th again) and I bowed to the inevitable wait. So as I waited (and there were only two windows open)...and waited....and waited, I decided to pay more attention to the conversations around me. Behind me was a mother who was yelling at her Iphone because she could not hear her daughter who was calling her on the Ipad (didnt know that was possible) and daughter did not know how to fix the problem. So they continued their loud conversation. I listened to the conversations at the windows. The Post Office is the only place I know where people that need to mail something have no clue how to do it. They sling their letters and/or package (and some of the worst packing jobs I have ever seen) on the counter and look at the post person and shrug their shoulders. So I give the Postal workers of America a lot of credit for smiling and just do their thing, and somehow our packages arrive...mostly on time. It also helps I have more sympathy than most since my Grandfather Weber was a postal worker/mail carrier, when he had to carry a gun because they were robbed on a frequent basis. The line is now past the door and into post office boxes. A woman comes in, looks at the line, and sees a friend..Hey Marge!, and walks to the first third of the line to greet Marge. Marge: Happy New Year Betty! and they begin to converse. Meanwhile, they both move as the line moves forward. My suspicious nature knows that something is up. Then Marge notices that, for the first time, that you can buy stamps on the vending machine, and proceeds to do this. Marge then says goodbye to Betty and leaves. And where is Betty? In the place in line that she cut into. Then she gets to the window and has no bleeping clue how to send her letter. I get my business done (and some was business related) and off to Barnes and Noble to get a calendar. And of course I cant just get a calendar. So as I am walking out of the store, my eyes catch a glimpse of a books title: Assholes: A Theory by Aaron James. I did a quick u-turn. Yes that is the title. Dr. James is a professor at UC Irvine in philosophy and has written a handbook on the identification, why they are what they are and how to manage them. A smile crosses my face, and I am dying to start reading my Kindle tonight.
Posted on: Wed, 31 Dec 2014 04:09:59 +0000
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