The Weekly Work Adventures Continue
Bureaucracy and statistical method vs actual reality means that my route is rated 8:05, but I am, nevertheless, required to finish in eight hours. Saturday, we all had to do an extra half hour... and still finish in eight hours. This is scientific proof that mail carriers have magic powers. It's also makes it pretty damn obvious that my half hour unpaid lunch only exists on paper (a problem with many routes in our office owing to many years of Supe bending rules to make her numbers look good). To come to my point....
Today's Exiting Parable of How Common Courtesy is a Survival Skill:
I deliver seven houses along a main thoroughfare - very busy - but at least there's a wide margin for me to use. As I reached the last house, preparing to make a right turn onto a side street (as in, moving), a car whipped around and parked in front of me. I dealt with the discourtesy by checking that there was a gap in the traffic flow and swerving around the stupid, self-centered people who lacked certain common sense. Stupid people exist. *shrugs*
Then discourtesy became reckless endangerment as the driver opened his door to block my truck (and if I hadn't swerved out further reflexively, his door would be gone). Remember, all this is happening in the middle of a very busy road - approaching rush hour. Cars following me were forced to swerve through the central turn lane.
Apparently this fuckwit had mistaken the red white and blue eagle for a mapquest icon. He wanted to know where "the marina" off this road was. I shouted back that I didn't know, in a tone that was plainly: "WTF is wrong with you shit-for-brains?!?" and continued on my route. Yes, I am one of those horrible rude people that shoves past self-absorbed stairwell and hallway chatters. I sure as heck don't talk to people who are trying to kill me.
The entire zip code is situated on a peninsula. I'm sure you're all smart enough to figure that one out. Remember, boys and girls, mail carriers are for delivering mail, so learn how to read maps on your own. *hugs'n'kisses*
Today's Exiting Parable of How Common Courtesy is a Survival Skill:
I deliver seven houses along a main thoroughfare - very busy - but at least there's a wide margin for me to use. As I reached the last house, preparing to make a right turn onto a side street (as in, moving), a car whipped around and parked in front of me. I dealt with the discourtesy by checking that there was a gap in the traffic flow and swerving around the stupid, self-centered people who lacked certain common sense. Stupid people exist. *shrugs*
Then discourtesy became reckless endangerment as the driver opened his door to block my truck (and if I hadn't swerved out further reflexively, his door would be gone). Remember, all this is happening in the middle of a very busy road - approaching rush hour. Cars following me were forced to swerve through the central turn lane.
Apparently this fuckwit had mistaken the red white and blue eagle for a mapquest icon. He wanted to know where "the marina" off this road was. I shouted back that I didn't know, in a tone that was plainly: "WTF is wrong with you shit-for-brains?!?" and continued on my route. Yes, I am one of those horrible rude people that shoves past self-absorbed stairwell and hallway chatters. I sure as heck don't talk to people who are trying to kill me.
The entire zip code is situated on a peninsula. I'm sure you're all smart enough to figure that one out. Remember, boys and girls, mail carriers are for delivering mail, so learn how to read maps on your own. *hugs'n'kisses*