My mailman is an idiot.
When I first moved into my apartment my maildude held up our mail, making us go to the zip code post office to get our mail - which I may add was extremely inconvienent... Just so he could get the apartment complex to buy new mailbox recepticals. The old one had a bend in it that cut his hand. Hence giving him some stitches. I wouldn't have minded the numbskulls holding up the mail and making us pick it up at the main office, except our zip codes main mail office, oddly enough, is four miles down my crossroads and about twenty lights too many away whilst there is a convienently located USPS office just up the very same street I live on.
I am down with a wacky mail dude getting new boxes because he cut himself and had to get stitches and the cheap apartment management told him no on brand new boxes and they'd file the rent down so it wouldn't cut him and pay his medical bill. HE wasn't as down. He hand wrote a letter and copied it explaining what was going on and then ceased to deliver mail. Two weeks later, bam, we get new boxes. Management caved. They cave for a guy who doesn't even live here, but ask for a new dishwasher because the old one sucks and you are SCREWED.
My mail dude, and I say dude, because he thinks he's a real dude is wacky shit. He always wears shorts no matter the weather with bright sneakers. He's got his tunes for music attached to his ears and he bops about as he puts stuff into the slots. He hits on ladies that are obviously attached, as in, they have rugrats hanging off their coattails when they get mail or they're boyfriends impatiently honk while waiting for their bitches to get the mail.
He also insists that occupants place their names on a sticky label, which he does NOT provide and put it inside the mail slot box. What? You mean you can't just stick it in the box with the correct number? Didn't you have to like, pass a test to get this job?
Well, this week he seems to have gone off the deep end. Last week he had a ride along, checking up on his doings and shit.
This week, I think he figures he's done for. He just lays our mail on the ground and smokes cigarettes. Then randomly throws the mail into slots. FEAR. I'm glad my watch is coming by Brown and not USPS.
And people think I'm the freak.
I am down with a wacky mail dude getting new boxes because he cut himself and had to get stitches and the cheap apartment management told him no on brand new boxes and they'd file the rent down so it wouldn't cut him and pay his medical bill. HE wasn't as down. He hand wrote a letter and copied it explaining what was going on and then ceased to deliver mail. Two weeks later, bam, we get new boxes. Management caved. They cave for a guy who doesn't even live here, but ask for a new dishwasher because the old one sucks and you are SCREWED.
My mail dude, and I say dude, because he thinks he's a real dude is wacky shit. He always wears shorts no matter the weather with bright sneakers. He's got his tunes for music attached to his ears and he bops about as he puts stuff into the slots. He hits on ladies that are obviously attached, as in, they have rugrats hanging off their coattails when they get mail or they're boyfriends impatiently honk while waiting for their bitches to get the mail.
He also insists that occupants place their names on a sticky label, which he does NOT provide and put it inside the mail slot box. What? You mean you can't just stick it in the box with the correct number? Didn't you have to like, pass a test to get this job?
Well, this week he seems to have gone off the deep end. Last week he had a ride along, checking up on his doings and shit.
This week, I think he figures he's done for. He just lays our mail on the ground and smokes cigarettes. Then randomly throws the mail into slots. FEAR. I'm glad my watch is coming by Brown and not USPS.
And people think I'm the freak.