Wait A Minute, Mister Postman. I Think You Forgot Something…

 Hello, Friends.

Have you ever had a day that was pretty much normal until… the end? That happened to me the other day. I realized sometime last week that one of my Netflix rentals (The Proposal with Sandra Bullock Betty White) had not come. I figured the problem was with Netflix, so I reported that I hadn’t received it, got a new one sent the next day, done. AFTER I had watched the video in question and was ready to send it back, I receive a little tidbit in the mail from our lovely US Postal Service:

They cared… enough to not send my vidjo.

This, my friends… has never happened in the 24 years, 10 months, and how many ever odd days I have been alive on this fair planet. Never. Of course, my first thought is “why are they sending me the flap with my address on it, sans video?” Better yet, WHY did they deem it was necessary to send me the Ziplock bag equivalent of a Chris Brown apology bow tie? Seriously, I need to know what the point of it all was.

In the middle of my random outrage, I penned this letter, FROM MY PHONE, and uploaded it to Tumblr. I was mad, yo. Real mad. Shar Jackson.
__________________________________________________

Dear Postmaster: I sincerely regret that my mail was damaged due to a disgruntled Postal Worker. This incident inconvenienced me greatly, because I had to wait DAYS to see The Proposal, starring Sandra Bullock and that douchy guy featuring Betty White. BETTY WHITE, dambit! I expected my mail not only to be delivered in good condition, but also timely. You screwed not only me, but Netflix, by making them look bad.

I understand that mail is frequently damaged because your basement trolls like to rifle through the good stuff before it’s actually distributed. That’s why my mama can’t send me no Florida mangoes no more, ya bastids.

 I completely understand. You’re in the middle of training a new fleet of uniformed dummies, so you sent this piece of a Netflix envelope with my name and address in a Ziplock bag in order to say, “Welp, we tried.” Luckily, Netflix sent the video 4 days ago, and I got my Betty White fix.

I’m sure you’ll screw up again, so as far as accepting your apology, I’d rather not waste that breath of air when you’ll put my electric bill in the neighbor’s box tomorrow. F your existence.

Love,
Beez.

I may have been a bit harsh, but… does this happen in real life, or just to me? Should I continue to write letters for the healing and to get things done? Has any kind of random mailing mishaps come your way? If so, share… I bet this wouldn’t have happened if I was in the suburbs. 

Switching to FedEx for Sprinkle Deliveries,
Beez

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