Don't let 'em steel your identity

Every day is a new adventure if you're paying attention.

Our small town post office has a bulletin board where anyone can post a for-sale notice or religious tract or event notice.

I noticed this semi-literate warning about trash collectors rooting through trash bags the other day.

Today was trash collection day in our neighborhood, so I was ready with my WWII German Army Leitz 15x60 binoculars. I watched the trash collector's every move as he dumped our trash container, then or neighbor's, into the hopper truck and pulled the compactor lever without giving the stuff a second glance. Either it's not a problem or these guys got the word.

Today's trip to the post office also yielded these gems: 

And just to make my post office trip complete, I stopped at the new convenience store/Subway for lunch.

The girl making my 6-inch roast beef was painfully slow, tried to put grilled chicken on my sandwich, struggled with the lid on the oregano container (they all do - I look forward to it now) and tried to charge me $9.41 for a 6-inch roast beef sandwich and a cup for water.

After I objected, a coworker helped her ring it up properly for $4.28. Her manager watched the whole thing over the girls' shoulders and said nothing. No apologies. Just the reflexive, "Have a noss day."

Noss.