Saturday, April 23, 2011

Fuck the Postal Service

Not the band. I have no problem with them. I’m talking about the “Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow” assholes that only seem to be capable of bringing bad news. The only things I ever get from them are bills, unsolicited advertisements, or notices from my bank that could easily come to my attention by e-mail. “Did you know that if you open an account with a balance of $1,000, we’ll give you a coupon for a car wash?” Fuck you bank, I don’t care. I have bums take care of that for me.

I don’t receive letters (maybe once in a while), I don’t receive checks (besides the tax refund I just got), and I don’t receive toys/candy/beer EVER by mail. So what is the United States Postal Service good for? Turns out, nothing.

What’s the Postal Service’s job? To bring shit from here to there. Or from there to here. All you have to do is read the thing where it says, “Bring it to this exact location. Here’s some specific numbers to guide you,” and bring it there. That’s it. I’ve been a delivery driver for a while, and it’s basically the same thing. It’s simple. I’ve worked with some really stupid people, and even they were able to get it right. A person who doesn’t speak English or know the arrangement of roads could do it. Get a GPS, and match the numbers and letters one-by-one if you have to. Easy.