Yesterday evening, I found myself amongst the late night post office crowd. I was dropping off a Lil' Cozy Up package that I was determined to get out that day. Fortunately, my local post office is open until 7 PM. I arrived around 6:45.
There were three people in line ahead of me: the lady speaking with the postal worker, trying to figure out the right size box for her shipment, the man next in line who was with his son and appeared to be very anxious, and the person in front of me. I cannot remember much about the person in front of me because I was so very fascinated by the lady I passed on my way in.
This lady could have been me on a different day. She was wearing pajamas and was carefully rushing to get her package wrapped up. When it was clear that the box she had wasn't quite big enough, she changed tactics and instead wrapped up the item she had (a t-shirt?) with some brown paper. Because I was quietly rooting for her, I shared in her small victory. I held back my cabbage patch dance. Barely.
I know (and dislike) that feeling of panic as you want, or sometimes need, to mail out something by a certain time and are crunched to do so. I was lucky on this trip because it was just me. My husband had gotten home from the office right before I left, so I snagged the box and headed out. I didn't have to cautiously balance the need to keep my son alive and happy while moving forward in the line. The box sizes for my different gift sets had been determined well before this trip, and my label was printed. I just needed to send it off.
In my relaxed reminiscent state, I remembered a trip to the post office I made with my husband and son about a year ago. We were preparing to take a trip to England to see family and friends, and my son needed a baby sized passport for his leeettle pockets. I had ordered the supposedly right sized photo online, had all of our documents ready and anticipated a quick trip.
My husband left the office for lunch, which is a very rare occurrence for busy him. He was hoping for a speedy trip, too.
We stood in the passport line and shared that we had an appointment. A man greeted us, and it quickly became clear that he had one foot out the door, eager to take his lunch break. He told us that the photo was too big and would not work, so we would need to make another appointment once we got the new photo.
That new timeline was not ideal for our traveling schedule. There was a camera in front of us, so we suggested that we take his photo there and then. Our hungry postman said there was no way that would work.
With a bit of patience, persistence and charm, we managed to talk the postman into doing a photo shoot. My hubby held up our son Lion King style to get the photo taken. Miraculously, you could not see my husband's hands in the photo...though he may have suffered from a little muscle fatigue when all was said and done.
That trip was my most stressful and my most rewarding trip to the post office to date.
I hope all of your post office trips this season are quick, easy and non-stressful!!