Jk, I’m exhausted too.
But I am going to write about corruption in a government agency: The United States Postal Service.
Jk, I’m just going to write about something annoying that happened in a post office parking lot.
A few days ago, I was under the gun to get some Amazon orders shipped. Yep, we’ve jumped on the Am-wagon to market some products so I’ve been promoted as CSO (Chief Shipping Officer). It’s demanding because Amazon has strict order fulfillment requirements and if you botch turnaround time you get bad vender ratings, which is product death.
I was trying to get to my local post office before closing to avoid driving to the flagship in town. Cell phone time showed a minute to spare when I arrived and yanked on a locked door. Freaking government workers! I headed into town.
I was driving our newish truck, which is fun and power trippy but I rarely drive it because my husband adores it in a creepy way and if something happens to it our blissful life together may end. The post office parking lot was crowded, but I carefully maneuvered safely into a spot. I just didn’t account for hip width while gathering packages and my booty bumped the door and barely nicked the car next to me. The owner was in it and got out to survey damage, which was a miniscule dimple you could see if you laid on the ground and looked up at it with sunlight hitting it at a 90º angle.
Of course I had every intention of taking responsibility, I just didn’t have 45 minutes to wait for a cop to arrive to issue an incident report, which is what the lady wanted to do instead of just exchanging contact information.
But, I get it.
This woman doesn’t know me from Eve and wants to protect herself with official documentation. I learned this lesson the hard way years ago.
A lady pulled onto the road and into the side of my car with her fancy new SUV. She begged me not to call the police because she already had a recent ticket. She promised she’d cover costs herself. She seemed sincere and trustworthy, so I agreed. She thanked me profusely for being accommodating and told me to get her some repair bids.
She was not so gracious when I did.
She accused me of scamming her even though I provided three bids all within a few dollars of each other. She questioned how it could possibly cost so much to fix my clunker and wondered why I even needed to. How quickly she’d forgotten she was at fault and I spared her from a ticket.
This experience taught me one of life’s great lessons: people forget, paper remembers.
It would be nice if we lived in a world where people always honor their word, or the business hours posted on the door of an official government building, but we don’t. Thus, we have to keep each other honest with paper trails. If only everyone had to be accountable to Amazon, the world would be a better place.