I found myself with a CD to mail while in town yesterday, so I went to the Post Office on Race (pronounced "Rice" if you're from here) Street.
There were two people working the counter and the line was backed up to the door. As I stood and waited, I noticed a lot of patrons seemed to have problems with literacy. One of the clerks had to call a patron back from just outside the door when she realized he had paid her with a $10 bill and she gave him change for a $20 bill. The ensuing confused conversation took several minutes longer than it should have if we were dealing with alert, intelligent people.
After what seemed like an eternity, I got to the head of the line and transacted my business efficiently and decisively.
Fast forward to the afternoon and I have another CD to mail.
This time I went to my small rural Post Office where I am on a first-name basis with the postmistress.
"The charge card machine is down. Do you have cash or a check?" she asked.
Nope. Just plastic.
"Alright. You can pay me the next time you come in," she said, scribbling my name and the $1.85 I owed on a slip of paper and putting it into the cash drawer.
I"m headed there now with another CD to mail and will settle my bill when I get there.
That, my friend, is small town service and convenience.
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