This article was written for Annabel & Grace, which is now part of Rest Less.
My sister-in-law, Sue, had sent me a fabulous cashmere jumper which she had designed herself in Italy. The lucky ones who purchase these stunning tops make up an exclusive little club! I had to pick mine up from the post office delivery depot because one is never ‘in’ when you get a parcel, weirdly.
This delivery place used to be a rather grimy cupboard opposite the Accident and Emergency entrance for the local hospital. One felt you could have a dagger plunged between your shoulder blades if you didn’t keep one eye on the door behind you. There was a security grate too, to talk through, just to make you feel even more at ease.
Now the place has been transformed. It’s a huge space with a very red shiny counter between ‘them and us’. There’s a red sofa too with at least eight seats on it. It’s a strange design, lozenge-shaped with seats backing onto each other, like a love seat for strangers! I arrived to see one guy languishing by the red silver-flecked counter (very retro).
I stood around for a while, then enquired, “Have you rung the bell for anybody?” He said he had. We waited another five minutes before two other people came in looking to retrieve their parcels. The lady immediately pressed the buzzer for attention.
“Good luck with that.” I thought. Nothing happened. The man behind her said, “Nice new offices!” I agreed with him and then added, “It’s a bit of a pity that with this spanking new place they didn’t think of employing anyone to run it!” He looked alarmed at this proclamation and had to sit down on the new red sofa to get over the shock.
“I suppose they put the sofa in to help with the interminable wait, but maybe they should have thrown in a new bed if we are going to be stuck here all night?” The lady pinged the buzzer again nervously. “Have you actually seen anyone yet?” I asked the first man. He replied that he had and that the man was looking for a parcel of shoes for him. “You girls know how important new shoes are, don’t you?”
I looked down at my atrocious, scuffed, were-cream-but-not-any-longer shoes. I then looked at the other lady’s hideous trainers and replied, “No, I don’t! So this long boring delay is all your fault, is it?”
He laughed just as another Post Office employee came out. “Anybody waiting for assistance?” he asked (rather stupidly I thought in the circumstances with all of us loitering around looking bored.)
“We all are!” We huffed in unison then things began to proceed at a normal pace. You really have to love this institution called The Post Office!
