Overheard at the post office
Today was a huge day for running errands. I was out running errands for almost 11 hours!
One of my errands brought me to the post office. As I was toting one of the bins of mail into the building, a shiny maroonish 1975 Mustang II coupe pulled past me and parked. The two elderly ladies ended up in the very long, slow-moving line behind me.
"The only good time to come here is about a minute after they open in the morning," a voice began. "There could be fifty people in line and they'd only have one person at the counter while we all waited."
"There are four of them out here now," pointed out her more mild-mannered companion.
"Yeah, well. There sure have been times when I've wanted to launch myself over the counter but that's a federal offense. Don't even think about doing that."
"Don't even joke!" advised the companion.
I knew this was going to be entertaining and was eavesdropping enthusiastically now...
"Once I went to a gynecologist who had televisions in every room," went on Voice One, making an abrupt subject change. "There I was on the table and he's looking at the TV! I told him, 'I'm gonna bust the screen out of that thing if you don't pay attention to what you're doing with that swab!"
"Oh!" said the companion. Then, changing the subject, "Are we in a black neighborhood? All the pictures on the walls are of black people."
"Yeah," confirmed Voice One. "When I went to Franklin High School, Columbia City was THE place to hang out. Then I went to California and the population had... you know... shifted."
She continued, "I hitchhiked to California when I was 18. Had a clean pair of underwear, a couple pairs of socks, a couple of sweatshirts and jeans. Went for the weekend and stayed 24 years. I hated it."
"I can see that," said her friend sarcastically.
At this point it was my turn and I turned to the lady to offer to let her go ahead of me, since I'd noticed she had a single envelope and I had two bins of packages to process. "No, thank you, doll. You go ahead, I've got this thing I have to do," she said. She continued talking to her friend about her hitchhiking days, the fellow who picked her up and how he asked her to drive the car while he slept in the back, and more. I couldn't eavesdrop effectively at this point because I had to conduct my business at the post office window.
A little while later, while my clerk was busy processing my packages, Voice One got to the counter beside me. She was getting a money order to send to Guadalajara that she wanted to get there "as fast as possible" but she didn't want to pay the $22 international priority rate if she could avoid it but she was torn about it taking too long to get there. "I'm sending this money to {someone}," she said. "On vacation in Mexico and her partner was murdered."
Best overheard conversation I've eavesdropped on in AGES! What a pistol!
One of my errands brought me to the post office. As I was toting one of the bins of mail into the building, a shiny maroonish 1975 Mustang II coupe pulled past me and parked. The two elderly ladies ended up in the very long, slow-moving line behind me.
"The only good time to come here is about a minute after they open in the morning," a voice began. "There could be fifty people in line and they'd only have one person at the counter while we all waited."
"There are four of them out here now," pointed out her more mild-mannered companion.
"Yeah, well. There sure have been times when I've wanted to launch myself over the counter but that's a federal offense. Don't even think about doing that."
"Don't even joke!" advised the companion.
I knew this was going to be entertaining and was eavesdropping enthusiastically now...
"Once I went to a gynecologist who had televisions in every room," went on Voice One, making an abrupt subject change. "There I was on the table and he's looking at the TV! I told him, 'I'm gonna bust the screen out of that thing if you don't pay attention to what you're doing with that swab!"
"Oh!" said the companion. Then, changing the subject, "Are we in a black neighborhood? All the pictures on the walls are of black people."
"Yeah," confirmed Voice One. "When I went to Franklin High School, Columbia City was THE place to hang out. Then I went to California and the population had... you know... shifted."
She continued, "I hitchhiked to California when I was 18. Had a clean pair of underwear, a couple pairs of socks, a couple of sweatshirts and jeans. Went for the weekend and stayed 24 years. I hated it."
"I can see that," said her friend sarcastically.
At this point it was my turn and I turned to the lady to offer to let her go ahead of me, since I'd noticed she had a single envelope and I had two bins of packages to process. "No, thank you, doll. You go ahead, I've got this thing I have to do," she said. She continued talking to her friend about her hitchhiking days, the fellow who picked her up and how he asked her to drive the car while he slept in the back, and more. I couldn't eavesdrop effectively at this point because I had to conduct my business at the post office window.
A little while later, while my clerk was busy processing my packages, Voice One got to the counter beside me. She was getting a money order to send to Guadalajara that she wanted to get there "as fast as possible" but she didn't want to pay the $22 international priority rate if she could avoid it but she was torn about it taking too long to get there. "I'm sending this money to {someone}," she said. "On vacation in Mexico and her partner was murdered."
Best overheard conversation I've eavesdropped on in AGES! What a pistol!
Labels: overheard
