Another Fun Trip to the Post Office

Please, only 300 pieces of mail at one time!

The other day I was lucky enough to enjoy being stuck behind a woman putting 300 outgoing pieces of mail in the drive through mail box at my local post office.  I was delighted further as she did this while talking on her cell phone and used only one hand to accomplish a two handed task.  Very talented, indeed!

I think she merely forgot that there was a line of cars was behind her.  Maybe it was her day to “try” to be a better human being.

And who am I to complain?  My measly six pieces of mail were in no hurry to be placed in the mail box.  My cell phone sat in its resting spot, lonely and sad I wasn’t using it.  I should defer to her great abundance of common sense when it comes to mailing out numerous handfuls of letters.  Who would actually park their car and carry one box of 300 letters of mail into the post office?  Clearly, a moron like me who has nothing better to do!  That is probably why I wouldn’t follow my own worthless advice when it comes to mailing out some letters.

However, I know I need to be more patience in my dealings with the general public.  I sat in my car, allowed her to finish her task (without honking my horn), and she moved on.  I then mailed my letters and proceeded to be got behind her again as she sat waiting to make her turn out of the mail drop off lane.

Hmm, which way is she going to turn?  Maybe she told the person she was talking to on the phone because I didn’t have a clue.  But wait, her turn signal comes on and she is turning left.  Yes! Left at the worst possible time of the day!  Excellent!  We shall never get out of here!  And with her attention split between driving and chatting on her cell phone, this should take close to FOREVER to make the left turn.

A good five minutes later, she makes her left turn somewhat safely and we make our right turn.  Another fun trip to the post office is over with.

King of the Slacker’s Lastest Adventures

Another day of doing nothing….

I clearly remember that after I finished my first year of college, I was working at a warehouse during the summer full time (after going to school the past year full time AND working full time) and usually got in about 10-11 hours a day of work.  I had to pay my own college tuition, car insurance, gas, and food.  I think at that time I had a pager (no cell phone in those days).  At one point, I had a second job during that summer being a lifeguard for a short summer program.  Now, I tell you to put into perspective when I tell you I really have a very hard time with KOTS (King of the Slackers) not having a job.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he just got back from a very successful year at college studying pre-med and getting a high GPA.  Instead, at 11:25 am, I get to hear a new excuse of “my stomach doesn’t feel good” and another day of not looking for work.  However, I was pleased to discover that his dear mother (my wife) listened to me and told him that IKEA was looking for workers in their restaurant.  He did manage to leave the house after a nice long shower and a good breakfast of eggs, toast, and milk (all supplied by yours truly). Supposedly he headed to the Renton IKEA to apply for a job we had to tell him about.  I’m surprised I didn’t have to hold his hand and walk him across the street to apply for the job.

A lot of KOTS’ (King Of The Slackers) life is based on “supposedly” and “allegedly” doing things that involve improving his life and looking for a job.  Supposedly, KOTS was going to clean his room….allegedly he was going to stop by our friend’s KFC (our friend’s nephew is the manager) and get a job application.  Yet this never seems to happen in his realm of reality.  In the meantime, I still end up paying and getting really, really annoyed.

It wouldn’t be so bad (at least I tell myself this) if he picked up after himself, turned off the lights, put his own dirty dishes into the dishwasher, and just pulled his own weight.  Instead, we get the pleasure of cleaning his dirty crusty dishes and burnt egg on our frying pans.  Even after I tell him to his face in the kitchen that he needs to put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, he ignores me.

What do you think would be a good answer when I remind him to take care of his dishes?  A normal human might say “I’m sorry, I’ll do it” or simply say “thanks for the reminder”.  What do I get out of KOTS?

“My bad.”

“Oops.”

Or my favorite “I forgot.”

How the hell do you forget something I told you flipping 30 seconds ago?  If I smacked you across the head with a baseball bat do you think you’d forget that in thirty seconds?  This isn’t rocket science; it’s simply good manners.

Now one would wonder why I put up with this crap.  I really wonder why myself.  Mostly it stems from my love for my wife and my avoidance of having to deal with arguing with my wife over KOTS lack of respect and motivation.  If I was a violent individual, I really probably would have put my fist thru KOTS’ face a hell of a long time ago.

I would argue that to encourage KOTS to actually do something, one must set goals and work towards them.  If he doesn’t like it he can move out.  There is no free ride in this world, even the bus costs you something.  I’m asking for something if you plan to ride the bus.

KOTS’ mother’s fear is that when we actually put our foot down, KOTS will be so upset, he’ll move out.  Her poor 18 year old little boy will be homeless and starve to death if we put our foot down.  She seems to forget that:

  1. His father lives about 60 minutes away and has a house.  Gee, do you think he could live there?
  2. He has numerous friends that he could crash with.
  3. He could actually find a job and rent an apartment with a roommate.

Honestly, do you really think his Dad isn’t going to take him in?  Come on, let’s wake up and smell the coffee.  Let’s shift the burden over to his Dad’s household.  Hell, I’d pay for the moving van on this project.

Until next time my two readers (and Cyndi my stalker)……

Upcoming subjects:

One inch of Milk

Kevin’s Generous Moving Out Offer

Cell Phones and Left Arms