Post Office

I visited the postal store in the big, big post office on 34th Street today, and I admit it wasn't that bad.

"I'd like to see your first-class stamps please. Whatever you have, I'd like to see," I said to the clerk after she finished her conversation with another clerk.

"We don't have all of them," she told me.

"Okay. Show me what you have."

"Which ones?"

"Whatever you have. Show me whatever you have."

"We don't have the Chinese New Year stamps."

"Okay, show me what you do have."

"We only have the stamps with the check mark."

"Check mark?"

"The poster. There are check marks on the poster. That's all we got."

"Poster? What poster?" I asked and looked around.

The clerk sighed, rolled her eyes, and pointed to the poster taped to the wall on the other side of the room.

"Great. Show me the check-marked stamps."

"Which ones? There are four check marks."

"Then show me those four."

"You want to see whatever we have?"

"Yes," I said, "I want to see whatever you have."

"All four?"

"Yes, all four."

She made a big effort out of pulling out four sheets of stamps from the cart next to her and put them on the counter in a display of fatigue.

I bought all of them and left. On my way out, I bought some forever stamps at the self-service machine.

I got a bunch of stamps today, and I am in the mood to mail a letter.