Amy Goes Postal Again (or, how I stuck it to the (wo)man)

Colin and I have ended up mailing a ton of stuff back to the US - more than I expected, actually. All told, we should end up with one really large box, one VCR-sized box, and 5 extra large Collissimo boxes. How in the world did we get all of this stuff here? I'll never know.

Anyway, I ran back over to the post office right before it closed this evening because we needed two more boxes. (Note to future Frenchies: don't buy your own boxes to mail stuff overseas -- the Collissimo boxes are cheaper to buy and send than the do-it-yourself ones.) As luck (fate?) would have it, I got the Parisite. Yep, the most surly, unhelpful postal employee in all of France. OK, maybe she's not that bad, but I still hate getting waited on by her. But, I decided not to let it worry me, since I'd already been to La Poste once today and had better luck.

I tell the Parisite that I need two XL International Collissimo boxes. (For the record, all conversation is in French.) First, she looks confused, as if she doesn't understand. But, there's no way around it -- she understood me perfectly. She mumbled to herself a bit, saying something to the effect of, "The orange ones?" to which I said, "Yes, that's it." She heads off to the back to see what she can find.

When she returns, she is still waiting on a colleague to bring the forms, but is ready to take my money. I hand her my American Visa card, and she asks if I have a piece of identity to go with it. Just as I did earlier today, I handed her my Michigan driver's license. She starts to shake her head and say that it won't work, to which I replied, "It worked this morning." Now, I've got her! She can't cop out on me this time! Mu-hahahaha! She tries to run my Visa card by sticking it halfway through the scanner to start ... and of course, it doesn't work. She tries this two or three more times, and then ask if I have cash. "No," I tell her, showing her that I don't have 70-plus euros in my wallet. She has to take this card.

Now, she's getting nervous. I can see her hands start to shake. She runs off to get my boxes, then returns to try again. She tries my Visa card several more times (during which time I remind her that it worked just fine this morning). Finally, feeling pity on her, I decided to see if my Carte Bleu would still work. Fortunately, it did, so we were all set. She gave me my receipts a few moments later, and said, "Au revoir."

I didn't move. She gave me a disapproving look and told me that we were finished, and that I could go. I quickly (and coolly) replied, "I still need the forms for the boxes." This sent her running to the back room again, where she (gasp!), had to open a new package of forms so that I could have two. Flustered, she runs back to the counter and hands them over to me. I smile, thank her politely, and wish her a good evening.

YEA! How ya like me now, b-yatch?!? American girl speaks French now! What you gonna do? I know, it's not very ethical or moral to gloat, but I feel vindicated from last December when she had the upper hand. So, yea for me! :)

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