Death & Taxes

The scene at the post office was to be expected — a long queue and no certified mail tags to be found. I had already sent out yearly taxes last week but I was here to drop off the quarterly return.

I don’t wait in the line. There’s an automated machine on the other end of the long, almost-hallway-like shape of this particular post office only enhancing the seeming severity of the queue here. I always head there unless I need to send something international.

There is an inherent fear of the automated machine. It typically sits alone, waiting for someone savvy to come along and happily use it. I belong to this small elite¹ group of people. Those Who Do Not Fear The Technology™.

However, on this day, there are two people ahead of me. Savvy types. Well, except the fella up front who’s being guided by a postal worker. It’s obviously his first time. Eventually he has to get back in line — the machine fails him somehow. The lady in front of me is better but not by much. She falters slightly and the postal worker who’s beautifully decked out in some kind of ladies Burberry jumpsuit with matching Burberry visor and shoes, comes to her aid like some kind of BurberryWoman™ superhero.

While this is going on, I finally notice a girl, who looks like a college student. She’s scribbling furiously away on a plastic chair with a deck of envelopes and other papers next to her. I finally realize that she’s actually doing her taxes right then and there, at the post office. I start to imagine her plan for the day — I’ll wake up, go to the post office and do my taxes then mail it off! The USPS: Your One Stop Shop.

Certainly.

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¹ I wonder if Obama does as well.  ↩