A Visit To The Franklin, TN Post Office

On Saturday morning, I went to the local Post Office to buy a book of stamps. Who knew something so simple could turn into a ‘story’?!

First, our Post Office, is a story in itself… see here.

But on this day, the guy behind the counter was someone who’s been helpful to me in the past… especially after I returned the 2ND time during the whole “P.O. Box vs Actual Physical Address” fiasco! He always goes out of his way to be helpful. And I like him.

But on THIS morning, he didn’t like me.

There was no one in the Post Office but me on this morning. The clerk was reading through a magazine, at which point, when he saw me come in, he carefully closed his magazine, and gave me his full attention: “What can I do for you?”

Me: “I’ll take a book of stamps please.”

Funny Money
The book of stamps came to 7 dollars and some change… at which point I unloaded a handful of coins from my purse onto the countertop. I counted out the appropriate amount of coinage, and when I hit that magic number, I gently pushed the coins toward the clerk, signifying that the complete amount was there.

He quickly flashed me a look of disgust… not because I was giving him a bunch of coins. But because I was giving him a bunch of coins and ONE piece of dog fur.

I have two dogs. Both have long hair. Fur finds its way into some of the strangest places. Such is life.

But I’m NOT the white-trash that he made me feel like.

Goin’ Postal…
First, he attempted to “blow” the shameful piece of hair from the pile of coins, but the weight of the coins prevented it from going anywhere.

Then, he delicately used his nimble fingers to individually separate the coins, one-by-one, from the “foreign object”.

Even after the coins had made their way into the cash register, the fiesty little strand of hair remained.

By this point, the clerk’s level of disgust had noticeably reached a new level.

After he handed me my book of stamps in exchange for seven dollars and forty cents — and one bonus strand of hair from my furry friend — he resorted to using the metal date stamp to FORCE the hair off of his countertop and onto the floor.

At which point he nonchalantly went back to reading his magazine. And I exited the building.

THAT, my friends, is a man on a mission! The trouble he went to simply to avoid touching one stray piece of hair… And making such a whole ordeal of it in the process…

My “Dirty” Little Secret
I didn’t have the heart, but I wanted to inform him that the magazine he was reading was probably loaded with FAR more germs than this one hair from my dog had!

If he only knew the route that magazine had taken before it landed in his little (germ-free) hands! C’mon, have you SEEN some of those newsstand delivery guys?!

Anyway… such is how MY Saturday started.