Whoa… Wait. He said what?!
This is the story of my brief interaction to secure my new PO Box .. I decided to use the post office by my gym for easy box checks. I thought grabbing the keys was going to be a quickie run-in errand, like it’s always been, but…. au contraire, my friend.
I paid for a post office box online last night.
Today, I skipped my happy tush to the post office with enough identification to prove I that could exist in at least three parallel universes… and got barked at before I reached the counter.
Yes, that clerk… the dreaded entity who has a tiny bit of authority and intends to use it to its fullest extent.
My first official offense? Walking in.
My second? Not printing the form at home.
I told him I only have a label printer and asked if I could fill-out one there. He glared at me, then started aggressively punishing his keyboard.
I tried to show him my e-mail receipt.
He refused to look at it.
He asked for my ID and immediately began rejecting my documents… which, are good enough for the DMV, law enforcement, and banks – just not him.
Then I noticed the ink on his neck…
A large, retro LOVE stamp tattoo.
…I had to choke down a giggle.
Love?
Not agreeing with his dismissal of my ID, I pointed out that I am already in the system and that I will be forwarding my mail from my current post office box to this one.
“I need your correct ID HERE!”
I thought – my ID’s are here, lots of ID’s for you to pick your favorite from, but…
He found something he didn’t like with each one.
It seemed like a sport for him.. his well-rehearsed smarmy comments while giving people an over-the-top hard time.
Then he looked at me and said, “Unidentified humans took down the World Trade Center and I’m just making sure everyone is safe.”
Completely baffled as to how I just went from being a responsible adult securing a mailbox to a “national security threat,” I choked down every cuss word that crossed my mind and asked for a written list of acceptable IDs.
Without moving an inch… he reached over, grabbed a mailbox application, and handed it to me.
It was right there the whole time.
He didn’t have to find it.
He didn’t have to open a folder.
A thick stack of paper apps were right there.
So why all the anger, earlier?!
I choked down more unladylike words, took the application, and walked away…
As I’m leaving, I hear him ask, “Are you a—?”
Me: “A what?”
Him: “A Native American… they have their own ID.”
Oh my gosh… what prescription did he not fill?!
Stunned, I just walked out.
Back in the ’80s, people used to call erratic behavior “going postal.”
In 2026, Love Stamp Tattoo Clerk is single-handedly trying to bring the term back in fashion.
I’m good, just sharing a bizarre encounter…
Oh, and a box was acquired ..just not there.. who wants to deal with a potential mess every time I need to do something?
AND!, most importantly, it’s best to do business where I’m not considered a national security concern.
LOL!
