Friday, 6 May 2011
La dame dragonne
I hate rude and unhelpful people. I'll admit being rude and unhelpful is not up there with such crimes against humanity as genocide or child pornography, but when it's so easy to be polite and helpful (even my 2 year old can do it) why not?
I went to the post office this morning to send a first birthday present to a certain special little someone. Going to the post office is never a joy. Today it was a trauma. I took my ticket without which no one will even look at you at la Poste and went to join the queue. When the person in front of me had finished I checked the number on the board. 611. My ticket was 612 but as there was no one else rushing to the counter I took my parcel and moved forwards. It happens, right? You take a ticket, you can't be bothered to wait, you leave. La dame dragonne behind the desk looked witheringly at my ticket. Is that 611? she asked, pointlessly, as she could see it wasn't. Look at the number board why don't you! she barked. Cowed, I retreated. And waited patiently. As did she.
A couple of moments later a woman sauntered in waving ticket 611 and took up her place at the counter. I waited some more. Not so patiently. When it came to my turn the lady resumed her withering look and informed me that to send a parcel I had to use the machine. Why she couldn't have told me this when I first advanced clutching my parcel I'm not sure. As there was no one behind me in the queue and there was already a queue at the machine I asked if it would not be possible for me to send it, with her gracious help, at the counter. No. It had to be the machine. The staff of La Poste have apparently stopped dealing with the post.
When I got to the machine I realised you needed change. I didn't have any. I returned to the woman at the desk, who was sat doing bugger all and asked again if it would not be possible for her to deal with my parcel. No. The staff of La Poste have definitely stopped dealing with the post. She told me there was another machine where I could get change from notes and that I should use that. I asked her where the notice was informing their clientele that the staff of La Poste could no longer be bothered to shift their lazy arses (I might have phrased it a bit differently in French). She simply repeated to me that the staff of La Poste no longer deal with the post. In the interests of not scaring little O (who is a sensitive flower and tends to start wailing when mummy "gets upset") I went, changed my note in the machine, weighed my parcel and printed out my stamp.
Before leaving, I returned to la dame dragonne, who was still smugly occupied doing bugger all, and told her that generally in life I prefer to do business with a human being rather than a machine but that in her case I was more than willing to make an exception.
I then exited the building to post my parcel only to find that La Poste, in their infinite wisdom, had blocked up the post box outside.