No, Bob. You aren’t a “Postal Courier”.

Crazy dood named Bob (a creepy, really tall, 70+ guy) was impersonating a federal postal employee inside our neighborhood post office. I can’t find a law that says what he did is illegal, but I did find that you can’t dress as one for Hallowe’en. I also found definitions of Couriers and of “Postal” workers and since words have meanings, they are not the same thing.

It’s a busy day, and I’m in line with about 12 of the 20 people who are there. Everyone is doing what you do: get in line, address stuff, and do other things while waiting your turn. I’m pushing the big box I have with my feet as we move up.

The size of Priority Mail box that I need isn’t in the bin out there. I don’t want to push past people who are following the social distancing rules, so I wait for that part. I can see the bin of them inside.

Unfortunately, Bob is behind me “the blue lady” (I was wearing turquoise). He spent the entire time we were queued up in the mail boxes lobby telling everyone what to do:

  • which box to use
  • which line to get in
  • how to open a door (yes, really)
  • where they can drop a package if it has stamps already (newsflash Bob, no one is in this long line at the post office if they already know how much postage is needed)
  • how to “do a make”
  • ….and that he is a “Postal Courier” (no, Bob. You are not a Postal anything. At your age, you should be retired, but you are still working. And you are a plain courier.)

A really cute young woman came in clearly looking for something, so he hones in on her, “to help” of course. He’s so good at creeping on women that a transcript would read completely normal. Most guys probably wouldn’t think he was acting badly. Every woman who saw how he talked to her knows how fuckin’ creepy he is. She’s easily one third his age!

Finally, it’s my turn to go in the door and into the “inside” part of the post office. I get in and stand on the first dot. I take a second to go get the box I need. By the time I get back, this MFer is on my dot. I manage to get past him and his big box of junk and stand on the next dot since the line has moved. But that prompted the next woman to come inside and she’s like 2 feet behind him. So, I said, “Hey guys I think we got off our dots here, can y’all step back a bit?”

And then the guy asks me if I’m scared of the virus. I tell him my grandmother died from it. He wants to know her blood type (???) and is about to start his anti-vaxxing, government-tracking bullshit …and the whole time he’s inching closer. So I raised my voice and said, “Please do not step toward me!” He got all pissed and said “woah!” (and the woman that sneaked in behind him gasped), but he got back on his fuckin’ dot.

And for real: four year olds know how to stand in a line. We’ve been masking up and staying 6′ away from each other for a whole year, now. I was clearly trying not to talk to him at every attempted interaction. What exactly is wrong with this guy?

I told a supervisor both parts of the story. He was gone by then, but she knew exactly who I was talking about, said “no he does not work for the USPS”, and said they’ve had that problem with him before and have had to talk to him several times.

No, Bob.

  • turquoise isn’t the same as blue
  • that younger woman is not turned on by your “need” to “help” her, you creepy, dirty, old man
  • 4 feet isn’t the same as six feet
  • Covid-19 is not a hoax
  • And finally: You are not a “Postal Courier”

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