Thursday, May 26, 2011

Mr. Crabbypants

So, since they recently made some adjustments to the routes in my office, I have some new customers to meet. Most of them are nice enough. The kid who misses the old carrier, the kids running the lemonade/pizza/M&M stand who called me Cheapo... but the other day I met Mr. Crabbypants.
His name isn't really Crabbypants, but it's fitting, so it will do here. Mr. Crabbypants lives close to the end of my route as it is now. He had a package I was to deliver, a big one. Since it was so big, I left it in the back of the truck while I walked his street. I did, however, have the notification slip with me. The thing he would have to sign to get the package. When I got to his house I put all his mail plus that slip into his mailbox. I'm not sure why I decided to out the slip in there, as that isn't SOP. All I know is I'll never do it again. My plan was to finish his street, then deliver the next street over, and I would be done with my route. I could then pull up to his house and get that slip, and all his mail, and ring the doorbell, and hand-deliver all his stuff at once.
It was not to be.
When I was about half-way through delivering that last street, a large black car pulled up next to me. The window rolled down, and a hand thrust through the window and began waving that notification slip at me. Behind the hand was an unhappy face. In an accent so slight I could not place it, he asked me "You drop this for me?" It didn't help that he was mumbling as well.
"Excuse me?"
Big sigh. I'm putting him out. Then, slightly louder, "You drop this for me?"
I had no idea who he was yet, so I looked at the waving slip.
"I want it now. We're home, you don't ring bell."
"It's in the back of the-"
"You don't ring bell. We're home, my wife and me. You do this now?"
"Excuse me?"
"You do this now?" He was gesturing to indicate the neighborhood. I assumed he was asking if I was the regular carrier now.
"Yes, this was added on to my route."
Big sigh and a snort of disgust. He waved the slip again. "So, this is your fault."
"I have the package in the back of the truck. I was going to-"
"All I want to hear from you is an apology."
I stared at him for a second. I decided not to tell him what was really going through my head.
"I'm sorry, sir."
He's looking at me like I'm somewhat defective. "This doesn't happen again. Drop it at my house."
He started to roll up the window.
"I need that slip you have there!"
Big look of disgust. I'm really bothering him now. He thrust it back through the mostly closed window.
"I'll need you to sign that, so I can drop it off."
Now he was pissed of. He was rocking around in the car, kind of throwing himself about as he looked for a pen.
"I have a pen right here."
He waved me off and kept searching. Eventually he gave in and took my pen, scribbled something on the signature line, and shoved the slip back out to me.
"And the pen?"
Hard to describe how his body language, his grunts and sounds kept changing, but he was obviously getting more and more angry the longer he had to deal with me. He stuck the pen out through the window so forcefully that, for a second,  I actually thought he was throwing it at me. The window went up, and I called out "You have a nice day!" as he drove off. I can't accurately say he roared off, but he was moving pretty fast.
I finished my deliveries, got in the truck and drove it up the street to his house. The package was a large one, and pretty heavy. I considered just chucking it on his porch. he had already signed for it, I didn't really need to ring the bell. I remembered that he said his wife was home, though, and she hadn't been rude to me yet. It was pretty heavy....

It turns out that Mrs. Crabbypants is a sweetheart who apparently married a walking rectum. I got the package inside for her, and she thanked me. She was quite polite, and now I'm torn. I had already decided that, come winter, if there was a speck of snow on their walkway I wasn't going to deliver the mail. I'd claim 'safety issue', even though everyone else on the street would get my standard 'one day to shovel' before I considered not delivering. But now there is the Missus. I guess it will depend on who I talked to last....

Funny people.

Talk to you later!

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