The Unhelpful Kind

I don't like complainers. I don't know who does like them. I find them repellent. Who wants to hear it? Everybody has problems, and they either deal with them or don't, but privately. Telling the world about it when no one can help or would is like venting radioactive vapor into the air. Who wants to be around such a person whose outlook is so negative that it's all you hear from them? "Not I" said the cow. The reason I say all this is that when I make this complaint that's burning inside me you'll know I appreciate that it's not a pleasant thing to do.

As I believe I've said before, when I feel mistreated by some business or another, I walk away positively fuming. It requires considerable effort to douse the flames of rage, find some perspective and go on with my day in serenity. Just such an incident took place recently. As you are undoubtedly aware, the filing deadline for federal income tax recently came and went. It is the only time I really need stamps, and so I went to the grocery store in search of some in addition to envelopes and some food. Usually such places carry stamps.

This one did as well. I could see no sign of them being available at the register, so I bought my other supplied through the automated machine after. I spotted a sign which indicated in fact that stamps were sold at the special counter which also handled such things as lottery tickets and cashing checks. I dutifully made my way over there and waited patiently for my turn. The British for some reason take pride in their aptitude at 'queuing', but I don't. I just can do it.

When my turn came after a few minutes, I loudly and clearly stated my need of postage stamps, only to be informed by the man standing before a sign declaring that he had postage stamps that they were to be had back at the register where no sign proclaiming stamp availability was to be seen. I passive-aggressively informed him that I had thought they were sold at his station, and stalked off to the open checkout lane. I bought my stamps and left the store swearing to myself while waiting for the music from my shuffle to sooth me. It did so, and I went on with my day. I won't forget what happened, though.