With a title like yours, one might assume that you take responsibility for the actions of your workers...but not me. I know better than to assume...because to assume...makes you an asshole (or something like that).
I have always been kind to the postal workers of America. I give chocolates to my mailman around the holidays. I write my addresses as legibly as I possibly can. I even subscribe to the USPS magazine for goodness sake.
Monday was a tedious day for me. I carefully formatted, double- and triple-checked my mailing labels while my helpers diligently stuffed these cute little cardboard coasters into 1250 even cuter envelopes. Then boyfriend and I spent hours affixing the labels to the envelopes. The tiny pieces were posted and sent out yesterday, lifting a great weight off my shoulders. I was happy, knowing that people would get their happy little invitations well in advance of the March 9th event.
But then...today...the horror.
The letters were returned for inadequate postage. WTF?!?! Seriously, you raised prices again? Because OMG, soon it will be cheaper for me to jump in my personal jet and deliver each piece of mail my damn self.
But no. A trip to the Redwood City Post Office proved...um...informative?:
Us: (holding up the returned letter) What is wrong with this?
Grouchy Postal Employee: Um...nothing.
Us: Then why was it returned?
GPE: (taking the letter from us) Ohhhhh...well it is a CD (please note assumption).
Us: No it isn't.
GPE: (feeling up the envelope) Yes it is (notice the reassertion of the afore-mentioned assumption). So you have to put 75 cents more on it.
Us: But it isn't a CD.
GPE: Yes...I feel a CD (ok...u are an ASS).
Us: No...it is a coaster. Look (we fold it in half).
GPE: How am I supposed to know that?
Us: We are showing you...can we mail it now?
GPE: No. Not until you put 75 more cents.
So our choices were...just suck it up and cover the effing thing in postage...or fight. So...this evening we are planing a guerrilla attack of post boxes across the bay area. They might have been able to stop our giant crate of invitations, but if we spread out and sprinkle the things from San Jose to San Francisco...they won't have a chance.
I think the reason that people "go postal" is that occasionally a person (like a real one...with a soul and a brain) falls into this dreaded career path and when they realize that they are surrounded by zombies who have already snacked on all their coworkers' brains and they decide to take them out.
So postmaster...master of all post...please...I don't even know...don't hire stupid people?