In my attempts to not look stupid, I often say things that make me look even stupider.
"Sorry, I don't really know anything about mail," was today's gem -- uttered in response to a nice but not terribly understanding official at my local post office branch.
Look, I don't mail parcels very often and generally try to avoid the post office. But on this particular occasion I had a box of eco-friendly toys to send my friends in Kansas, who just welcomed a baby boy into the world -- a baby boy I desperately need to spoil immediately.
After cluelessly grabbing at packaging supplies for about 15 minutes, I settled on a very large box and placed the gift inside. I folded the corners to form a box shape but had no tape with which to seal it. But I assumed they would make it look right at the checkout counter, so I decided the time was right to jump into the fancy, roped-off "Confident? Final answer?" line.
After listening to the man in front of me relay the tale of the "little fat boy" who had stopped his mail two months ago and to the woman who unexpectedly turned around to give me a very detailed and uninteresting account of what was inside the package she was mailing, I finally got my chance to attempt to mail something.
I set the box on the counter, along with the completed but not-yet-affixed label. "Can you mail this?" I asked.
"If you tape it up and get it ready to go, I will," the man in the very snazzy polo shirt replied.
"Oh. Well, where do I get the tape?"
"You have to supply your own if you use that kind of box. If you use XYZ box (Sorry, I don't remember what the box was called), you can use this." He waved a roll of colorful federal packing tape in my face.
"Oh, okay; that's fine. I'll use the other kind of box," I said. "I don't really know anything about mail." He pointed me toward the correct vessel, and I brought it back up to the counter.
"Um," he said, "can I please get you to put it together over there out of the line so that I can help other customers?
"Oh, yes, sorry," I replied. "I don't really know anything about mail."
And thus on a Monday afternoon when the post office customers included a nutcase wearing a bait shop T-shirt that said "House of Hookers" and a woman mailing $250 worth of Crest WhiteStrips to China, I was the crazy one, the stupid one, AND the annoying one.
It's not my fault. I don't really know anything about mail.
