Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Out to lunch - just use door slot.


Today I have a piece off of Jan's route.  I come to a business that has locked doors and a sign in the window.











I read the sign, and step back to look at the glass above the door:














Shut the hell up.  I am 5 foot maybe 3 inches on a good day.  Do they know this?
Instead I try the door again, and again it is locked.  I wonder if I climb up the large stepping platforms on the side if I can reach the slot easier?  Is this a joke?
 I reach up and can get the edge of their mail into the edge of the slots.  Now I jump and push the mail through.  I get half the mail to fly through at a time.  The other half comes back out at me and floats down to the sidewalk around me.  In six tries, and six jumps, I get all the mail piece by piece to get delivered.
I should get points for devotion.

Monday, July 16, 2012

Paint Fiasco

First thing's first - I don't think I've ever even spelled 'fiasco.'
Check off bucket list #4829.

On with the paint FIASCO!

If you recall, we were redoing our house with the great renters (that was sarcasm).  Just in case you are wondering - we finally finished and we sold.  YAY!  Now just to make it through closing...

I have had some issues with the paint, and this is the story of my greatness.

It starts with my realtor, the fantastic Chris from Little and Company who sold our house in one day, told me to paint the color Moth Gray.  Sounds easy.  Moth Gray.

Trip one to Lowes - Moth Gray.  Easy.

Hired a painter, gave him the paint, paid him lots of money.  Easy.  (Not that easy, but easier to pay than do it myself.)

Painter did some touch up work with the wrong sheen.  This might not sound that bad, but looked pretty bad.  It looked as though we had patched horribly large holes in the wall or something since it looked so dull.  This is where the fiasco begins.

I do not have the right sheen to cover the patches and so I go back to Lowe's and ask for Moth Gray.  Ah yes - I forgot to mention that there are two moth grays and I don't recall which one I chose.  I try a gallon of option number 1.

I take it back to the house and paint over the dull spots and um - no.  It doesn't match.  Seriously?  Ugh.  Now I have a gallon of bad paint.

I go back to Lowe's.  I tell the guy whichever one he gave me, I want the other one.  He's not sure which one it is, so I just get a quart of each.  

One quart works, obviously the other one is crap.

I'm looking at the lids of all my paint cans now and I see that a couple of the numbers are different.  Later I realize that this doesn't really matter, but whatever.  So now I feel jaded.  The gallon of bad paint I have at home upsets me.  I was planning on using it to paint next door, but NOW that I feel that since I have realized their error I want to take it back and get the correct Moth Gray.  Don't you think?  Because I do.

Now I go back to Lowe's taking the bad paint and my good quart.  The girl was not excited about taking back my gallon.  Not.  At.  All.  I argue that they mixed it wrong.  It's different dammit and I want the right paint.  She allows me to go over to the paint desk and the nice worker man goes through the computer and mixes the right color.  He apologizes and we figure out that because I switched paint brands (not on purpose) that it threw my color off.  Oops.  He still exchanges my paint color and I leave with the correct gallon of Moth Gray.  Finally I have my right color.  I can paint next door with the great Moth Gray.

Now we are at today.  Getting ready to paint next door and I am cleaning out all the old bad paints that I don't need any more.  I look closer at my paints, my new paints, my new moth gray...  After an hour of studying, testing, prying cans open, closing, mixing, drying, and more...
My findings are that when I took in that quart to Lowe's, my quart of the 'right color' to say my gallon didn't match - it was the wrong damn quart!  It was my crap quart!  Son of a BITCH!

Once again I have the wrong paint.  The wrong Moth Gray.  I made the man change my paint to the wrong color.

This seems to happen to me a lot. Not getting bad paint, but just being a complete ass.

Friday, July 13, 2012

My ability to find my way in.



A while back I had part of Kit's route.  Luckily (or so you'd think) I got the old folk's home.  Normally this definitely is lucky - climate control!  I had never done this stop before but I wasn't too worried.  Why should I be?  I am a conditioned carrier.  I have done this for years!  I am at the top of my game. 
Plain and simple, this is easy money.

I get to the stop, get inside the door, and this metal box here welcomes me into the building.  The next set of doors are locked.  Being the mail lady - I do have my means to enter.  The guy that gave me this piece told me that the black plastic tag thing on my key ring will get me into the building-just scan it. 

This is my first time with a black plastic tag thing but how hard can it be?  It's scans and you open the door.  So I stare at the silver box:



I have circled, for your viewing pleasure, the "Hold to Scan" area of the box.  Can you see it?  Normal people might think that this would mean to hold the "A" or the "Z" to scan through the list of residents there to have the ability to call them.  But no, not I.  I hold my plastic thingy there in front of the letter A waving frantically.  Nothing happens. I wave it some more but this time in slow motion.  Nothing.  I now wave it around the whole face of the metallic square hoping to find the sweet spot making the door unlock.  Nothing.  Now I try just holding it there, in front of the sign for minutes on end.  Nothing still. 

There is now a weird pounding going on - oh, that's my head hitting the wall.

I start trying random keys in the locked door and of course - NOTHING.

My brain is beginning to hurt.  I turn back towards the metal box to try again and now I see it...




Black plastic tag thing
See the red light???

On the side of the lovely box is the damn scan place.  I hold my plastic key up to it and shut up!  The red light turns green and I hear the door unlock.
I am brilliant!

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

A few great things I found.


Driving back to the office and I saw a rainbow.  I don't thing it's coincidence that the gold pot at the end of the rainbow is actually the liquor store.

Do you see inside this lady's car?!  Holy crap!  Literally!!  It's a good thing she has the windows rolled down, I can't imagine the smell from all the garbage. 
Is this a hoarder living in her car?
Wait.  That is a lady, right?
That is a wrapper from everything she has ever eaten.
Maybe she is moving.  From one park to another.
She was going to buy a trash can, but then oh wait - there's her car.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Oh ya, I know you! Oh wait...

Have you ever met those people who never forget a face?  You run into them 20 years later and yet you still look familiar?  You met them once in a foreign country and they are sure they have seen you before somewhere? 

I'm not one of those people.

That whole face recognition thing - I suck at.  Hugely.

Since I tend to see a lot of people for my job this tends to make me look like an ass more than usual.  This is usually the scenario that happens...

I meet someone, man or woman, in the general vicinity of a house that I deliver to and am introduced to the person.  Somehow I now assume that anyone in this general area is this same person since I:
a) Do not pay attention at all.
b) Am a spastic person.
c) Am way too job focused to care.
d) Think that I will never see this person again.
e)  Assume that this is the only person that lives here and so it shouldn't be that hard to remember.
f) Plain suck at human relations.

A period of time passes.

I see someone around the same vicinity that I met person X at and I, being Ashley the great, now assume it's the same person.  Not missing a beat, and trying to be the ever-so-friendly-postlady I am, yell out "Hello there ______!"  And you can now fill in the blank with the completely wrong name.

This undoubtedly leads to them staring at me in confusion, looking around to see if I am talking to them, and then walking away as if to pretend they didn't hear me. 

Of course if it's more up close and personal and I say the wrong name then they, obviously, have to correct me.  Since I am so smart, I usually reply with "Are you sure?"  And if you haven't guessed yet, this makes me look even more like a jackass because they reply with a "Um... yeah."

Unless you have something that seriously stands out like facial tattoos, missing appendages, extra appendages, multicolored hair, a uniform you wear ALL the time, an eye patch, or maybe an attached siamese twin - I will probably not remember you. 

Just remember I'm really job focused.  And a little spastic. 

Monday, June 18, 2012

Jail Mail

So far, I haven't met a carrier that doesn't love to see the intricate drawings that come on the jail mail.  What can possibly say "I miss you while I am wasting away in prison"  like a bleeding heart, a bleeding rose, a unicorn (not bleeding), or cartoon characters (sometimes bleeding).  Right?  My imagination has led me to believe that jail is just a bunch of art easels, pencils, and jail cells.  Here are a few of the gems that I have delivered over the years.   




Pen?  He got a pen?  Almost always it's in pencil.  I'm gonna guess someone got shanked that night.


Nothing says love like Kermit with an automatic gun.
Peace, roses, music, and... steam?  Hair?  Blood?  What is that?
And of course bleeding hearts.

Not quite sure what this is about, but I love the string of Christmas lights as an added bonus.



Sunday, June 3, 2012

I'm stuck! Help!

A couple days ago I have part of route 2.  As I am finishing up my one of the walks, the last house on the street has a parcel.  I stroll up to the mailbox that is mounted on the fence and two dogs run over to greet me.  One Rottweiler looking dog seems like he's older, having a hard time walking, and seems pretty dang sweet with his tail between his legs and ears pinned back.  "Awwww! Little puppy!"  I think.  Now the other is not so sweet.  Mr. alpha male dog looks like he wants to eat off my face, take a little off my thighs, and have my feet as his personal chew toy.  Good thing the box is on the outside of the fence. 
Oh ya - I have this great package that will not fit in the box, and since I am awesome and soooo caring - I don't want to leave their package outside their yard.  I would prefer to leave the package inside the fence, right?  But um - yes, the one rabid dog jumping at the fence is preventing me from dropping the package inside the gate. 

My novel idea is to go back to my truck, get one of my own snacks - almonds - and  feed the dog to distract him from wanting to bite at my jugular while I drop the package.  I grab a couple almonds and walk back to the fence.  Shut up!  The dogs have disappeared!  Yay for me!  I was a little upset having to give up my trusty yummy almonds anyways.  I put my arm over the fence and drop the package and turn to go back to my truck. 

What is this?  I am stuck?  A piece of the fence has anchored into the hem of my postal shirt.  I am stuck!



So in my best calm Ashley personality I am trying not to completely freak the fuck out.  The dogs still are no where to be found as I scan the whole yard as fast as I can.  I tug at the fence, I tug again, and again, again, again, again, again.  Oh my God!!!  And now I hear it - the bark.  The barking has begun.  I've been spotted.  Holy shit!  If you have ever thought of wetting your pants in any situation  - this is it.  I flash forward to seeing my arm eaten off while I hang on the other side of the fence.  The barking is nearing me fast and is sounding a quite bit more aggressive.  I tug harder to no avail.  I finally calm down in enough time to look down at my sleeve to understand how I am anchored down.  I see the metal where it has poked through my shirt sleeve and out through the hem.  I unwrap it, slide the fabric out, and step away from the fence just in time for the rabid Cujo to jump up onto the fence baring his angry Ashley biting teeth.

I take a deep breath, yell at the dog "Ya beotches!  I won!  Woot woot!" and get back in my truck. 

Deep breath.

And by the way as I searched "stuck in fence"  I found this:
Which has nothing to do with anything, but yes I enjoyed it.

And I would suggest not to search "stuck in fence" unless you want to see a lot of dead wild animals impaled on large fences. (Or people)...  Yeesh.