Auditions for the new Batman film weren’t up to much
I’m a pacifist. I never lose my temper with people or raise my voice to them. I raise my voice and lose my temper with inanimate objects, but that’s another story. Even on Saturday, I maintained a wholly cool demeanour of which Jack Reacher himself would be proud. Scenario, thus:
Post Office, Saturday morning. Yes, there were a few old people in attendance, but that’s by the by for such an establishment. Otherwise, there was quite a reasonably skewed demographic of Lancashire folk filed up to the entrance all going about their business. There was a curious incident concerning the lady in front of me. If it wasn’t for her odd omission, I could have been served one person quicker. We queued for around five to ten minutes, and when she approached the counter, she asked for a passport photo. The thing was, she’d walked passed the passport photo booth that was right next to the entrance. As she walked in. Signposted – PASSPORT PHOTOS.
After she embarked on a short walk of shame, it was my turn to party, conversation thus:
Me: “Hello, I’d like another twelve months on my tax disc, please.”
*Assistant thoughtfully rifles through my documents*
Assistant: “Oh, I’m sorry, you can’t use this insurance certificate as it runs out before the tax disc starts.”
Me *Grinding my teeth*: “Ah, right, I see. I’ll have to get my new certificate then. Thanks, goodbye.”
That is what actually happened, although at the time, my barely contained frustration in the knowledge I’d have to return and queue up all over again made me yearn for this alternate scenario to play out:
Of course, I wouldn’t actually ram through the front of the building with a (fully insured) vehicle.
Not being one to quit easily, I returned home and printed out my latest certificate of insurance. Then returned. Then queued up. Again.
When I approached the counter, it was the same lady that had served me on the previous attempt.
“Back again,” I smiled. She replied with a polite smile, one that implied, “I’ve no idea who you are, I don’t recognise you, but I’m just going to smile and deal with another human.”
I experienced a feeling of dread as she, again, thoughtfully sifted through my documents. But everything went fine. As she proceeded with my disc, the gentleman adjacent was called into some curtained booth in front of the counter to the far left. There was a space-age scanner of sorts with some buttons dotted here and there. I’m still clueless as to its purpose. Maybe it’s a recharge station for pensioners’ hearing aids. Or Terminators.
I may never know.
Until then…
I’ll be back…
dantandy 
I’ve been there. I’ve been there so many times. Formby. Oh, and having Patrick Bateman-style episodes in the Post Office.
Since I started selling on eBay in 2004 I’ve completed over 2000 sales, almost all of which have necessitated a visit to the Post Office. Although I’ve gone into semi-retirement over the last year, standing in line at the Post Office possibly accounts for the third biggest use of time after sleeping and being at work (I’ve purposely not said ‘working’).
It was once not uncommon to see me waiting first in the queue come opening time, practically camped out in advance as if it were the opening of The Phantom Menace, with three big blue Ikea bags worth of mail to send each Saturday morning. But it’s not all fun and games. As with most aspects of my life I’ve suffered so much grief at the hands of eBay, including plenty of Post Office related flashpoints.
I used to joke that I would recount my many experiences and gripes in a book called ‘Selling My Sanity: Lessons from a seller sent crazy by eBay’. I’m sure there have been far more useless books on the subject that have made someone money – especially in this brave new world of self-published e-books – so more fool me for adding it to my long list of never completed/started endeavours.
Speaking of which I also penned a concept for a comedy series about a group of eBay sellers under the working title ‘Positive Feedback Withdrawal’ (direct reference to eBay plus a dual-meaning). I’m not talking something that would’ve been destined for terrestrial prime time – just a very low-budget affair, 10-minute episodes, made available on YouTube or the like.
It would’ve been shot as if from a webcam (POV facing desk-up view of character facing, and acting towards, the camera as if it were the monitor), with added screen footage covering some mock-ups of eBay, emails, and the characters interacting over Skype (shown within a window so there would be cuts between them full view and from the other character’s screen). The only location beyond their rooms was to be the Post Office which I was going to ask my local post master about for real-world on-location authenticity. Considering we’ve been on first-name and Christmas card basis for far longer than most people I actually work with I’m sure he’d have agreed.