The Post Office

So I have this unwritten rule to always be nice at the post office. After all, they carry mail to places no one else will, and do it for pennies, too. Further, they get griped at constantly, sniped, like the clerk at the counter is personally responsible for the impending postal rate increase, or that they are the ones who decide how much bulk mail you're getting advertising discounted car washes and oil changes. The people at the counter work hard, and process a huge amount of mail for cranky people, so yeah, I always try to be nice.
Today though, the Post Office defeated me.
I've had a cold for a couple weeks, and then topped it off with the flu this past weekend. Today was the first day I've felt remotely close to human since the double whammy of germ warfare my niece accidentally waged on me, and so I bundled up the stuff I needed to mail and headed off to the local station.
I always expect to wait. I bring my own pen. I bring a spare pen. I complete my forms ahead of time, according to the postal website, and I am prepared.So the post office doesn't usually get to me.
I left feeling like I'd just relapsed with the flu.

"Hi, I need to mail this small flat rate box to an APO."

"Do you have your customs form?"

I held it up.

"There isn't a small flat rate box."

"Yes there is. This box is labeled a small flat rate box."

"No there isn't."

I turn the box over and show the USPS printed tag. Sho' nuff, small flat rate box was printed on it.

"How did you get this box? We don't have these boxes."

"I ordered it off the USPS website."

Disdainful sniff. "You need the other customs form."

I begin filling out the other customs form.

"Oh, wait. You might be able to use this form."

I continue filling out the other customs form.

"What is this? You can't mail this like this."

"It's called a Tickelope, ma'am, and it can be mailed as is. It's been approved by the Post Office at the manufacturers level."

"I don't know..... I think we have to charge you for a parcel for this, instead of a letter."

And then there was a conference.

Meanwhile, a full customs form was completed, and I stamped it, sealed it and stuck in on the small flat rate box I apparently wasn't supposed to have, because the post office didn't have it yet. A full sized form, by the way, covers that box, and it's sides, and the top, entirely. I hope you have a k-bar to break into that box, Doc.

"You have postage on this already. We're gonna have to charge you for a parcel, we think."

"Ohhh-kayyyy..."

"It's going to cost you at least another three dollars, and there isn't room for the postage on this, so you're gonna have to put it into an envelope and mail it. Unless you want me to rip your postage ... " She ripped the postage off, ripping the envelope....

"Ohhh-kayyyy...."

"You need a customs form for this."

I hand her the mini customs form.

She sticks it on the address side, decides she doesn't like it, peels it, and much of the address, off, and then turns it over. "Oooohhh, this is for the military! I hate to cover this up. Maybe we don't need a customs form after all....."

She crumples the customs form up, sticking it all to itself. Three seconds later.... "We need a customs form."

"You know what? Let's just mail this box. I'll take the other envelope home."

"No, we can do it!"

"No, you've already destroyed it. You ripped the envelope portion of it off when you peeled up the customs label, the stamps I had on it are useless now, too, and the whole thing is about ten dollars in the trash. I've had enough fun with this. Let's just finish up mailing the small flat rate box, please, and I'll be done."

Silence.

"You can fill out a complaint to have the stamps replaced...."

"No thank you."

Yeah, the post office beat me up one side and down the other today.