I had to go to the Post Office today. I sent out documents to my lawyer using express mail so that she will receive them tomorrow.
While I was waiting in line at the Post Office for the next available postal worker, I noticed a couple at the service counter. I think everyone in line noticed this couple. They were young, probably in their mid- to late-twenties. The woman had shoulder-length red hair and black plastic cateye glasses. She wore a light-colored sun dress with a single earth-tone flower design covering it. The young man was less distinct with a common face and dark, short hair. He was dressed in jeans and black t-shirt and wore Teva sandals on his feet. They were a noticeable couple because they were quite worked up about postage for an envelope. There were two postal workers serving customers at the counter; one man was ahead of me with a package. I started paying attention to the couple when the young man had the postal worker retrieve an envelope that he had just placed in the outgoing mail slot. The worker put the envelope on the scale and said,� "yep, it�s just one-tenth of an ounce overweight. Now, that probably won'�t matter, but it might.�"
The young man was excited, �"But, it does matter. We spent $300 on these and hand-created each one. We brought the packets in and had them weighed and were assured that these stamps would be sufficient.�"
The postal worker offered a look of compassion and said, �"Well, I don'�t know what to tell you. It will probably be all right.�"
�"No,� said the young man, �probably isn�'t good enough. This is $300 we spent. I just don'�t understand this.�"
At this point, I was next in line. The man with the package was at the counter paying for his package postage. I eagerly awaited my turn so that I might ascertain the source of the dismay at the next station. As the gentleman put his wallet in his pocket and turned to walk away, the postal worker who had helped him nodded at me and said, �next.�
I stepped up to the counter where I could hear the couple better. I handed the worker my express mail envelope.
The worker at the next station continued to attempt to assist the distraught couple, "�We could just add elevent cents postage. That would cover it.�"
The young man was becoming even more worked up. "�I just don�t understand this. We brought the packets in and had them weighed before. How can they be over now?�"
�"Well,"� the postal worker patiently replied, "�I�'m not sure. Maybe the postage added enough that. . .�"
�"No!�" The young man raised his voice somewhat. �"That�'s ridiculous.�"
The postal worker who was helping me, turned and interrupted the interaction. �"Hey, we have these three-cent star stamps�--they look pretty nice. You could add three, or, uh, four of those. . .�"
The patient postal worker helping the couple turned to my guy and gave him a raised-eyebrow look. My guy said, "�Oh, I�'m sorry. Right. You�'ve got it.�" Then he turned to me and said, �"Wedding invitations. People want them to be perfect. Guess I shouldn�t have butted in. This comes with a hundred dollars insurance, do you need more?�"
Ahh, wedding invitations. �"Nope.�"
�"OK, that�s eighteen seventy-three.�"
I handed the man a twenty and noticed that the woman had turned away from the counter with her head bowed. She took two steps away, then turned around and returned to the counter. She rubbed her eyes as tears streamed from them. "�This is my wedding,�" she said, "�It only happens once."� She let out a small sob.
Her fiance� took over: �"we hand-made these. It cost $300. We just want to make sure that they reach their destination. I can�t believe this.�"
My guy gave me my change as I continued to stare at the couple with my mouth gaped open. I took my change and felt sad because I would have to leave before the story ended. I walked slowly past the couple to the exit, but nothing substantial happened in the time it took me to reach the door.