The other day, my friend Rich, who delivers mail in Spenard, mentioned, just in passing, not even really apropos of anything, that his worthless T* had bid out of the station because a parcel post route had opened up at the Main Post Office.
It never even crossed my mind that this bit of news would mean anything to me other than how nice it would be for Rich to have somebody competent carrying his route on his day off. But this morning I found out that the carrier leaving the parcel post route had left our station a few months ago for the greener pastures of parcel post. But now he's coming back. I'm not the kind of guy who would ever talk bad about another person, but he laughs more than any unhappy person I've ever met. And not just some decorous little simper, either. It's like a jackhammer heard a joke, and my head is just dainty and resonant enough to shatter. And then he laughs ha ha ha, and then ha, ha, ha, and then some poorly chosen obscenities, and then ha, ha, ha. hah, hah, ha, ha. Pretty annoying, huh? Now imagine it at a hundred and five million decibels, for 8000 hours straight.
Luckily, Zoloft and noise canceling technology working together have made me an amiable member of the Get Along Gang, so it's all good. lol, ha, ha, ha, ha
*T for carrier technician, the person who carries a route on the regular's day off