Bitchin' about work

Aw man, I'm just gonna gripe about work. Maybe you want to too? Go ahead. Knock yourself out.

So, I do this gig in a post office where I just take people's boxes and get postage on them and sell stamps and shit. It should be the fucking simplest thing on Earth, but some folks are like "Here's an egg. I don't have a box and I want to send it to Germany. By ground. Don't you have Germany's zip code? I don't want to pay more than 30p."

Lady, paying with pence is the least wrong thing of the wrong things you just said. 

In my day, you forty-year-old parasite, the post office didn't handily provide you boxes for priority shipping; you had to fucking find boxes. Didn't you guys help your mom steal boxes from the dumpster behind the liquor store like I did when I was a kid?

And yes, it's priority shipping. It's $5 (305 pence) more and takes half the time. Suck it or fuck off to the liquor store dumpster. 

And you think it's expensive? It's being sent across the country. It's a carpool for undeclared cookies and boring letters about cancer and grandchildren. It's a motherfucking steal, you cheap bastard. Oh? You're sending a ten-pound package to Maine? From Texas? Fuck you; it's fifteen dollars. Fuuuuuuuuuck you.

And yes, it's paperwork. It's right there. While you're waiting in line. You've been in line for 15 minutes. There are a lot of stupid motherfuckers soakin' up my time like a fucking sponge in front of you. You have plenty of time to read every sign and fill out every piece of paper. All of them. One of them will probably be the one you need. If you get to me and need a piece of paper, for example the one that says "Insurance" when you need insurance, then you have to go back and fill it out and wait in line to get back to me. Sorry. Learn to read. Yes, I discriminate against the illiterate.

Why does this tape cost money? Because tape costs money, dumbass. It's not pulled from the fucking aether; it's tape. It comes in two varieties: free and 25 cents a strip no wait I lied it's only the one type. Gimme a quarter or develop the superpowers of foresight and realization that you're not entitled to free shit. You can be Captain Foresight and Realization That I'm Not Entitled to Free Shit. Your comic would be awful because you're a poor excuse for a person, you cheap, self-important crybaby.

You don't need a label. Whatever dumbass shit you're doing over there, you do not need to set up an operating theater with stickers and an x-acto knife to create a jury-rigged piece of paper with your address on it. Trust me; you will probably need that address so the nice officers can help you get back home. Just write it on the box. Write--nononono--write it on the box. The fucking box. That fucking box. The one you need to send. Write it so the nice postman knows where it needs to fucking go. Use a pen. Use this sharpie. Use your own blood jesus christ and the pussycats, please use your own blood. Use all of it but what you need to fuck off, then fuck off and die.

And have a nice day.