Going Postal

While out shopping the other day, I happened upon a cool stuffed dinosaur on the clearance rack at Kohl’s. My four year-old nephew loves dinosaurs and I knew it would make a great addition to his small collection. So, being the cool aunt that I am, I happily took the dinosaur home.

I boxed up the present and went to the post office. The only labels I had at home were USPS Priority Shipping labels I had left over from Christmas. I wasn’t going to ship the gift priority so I simply planned to cut off the top part of the label which identified it as a postal product. When I stepped up to the counter (with label, pen and scissors in hand) I asked the clerk to weigh the package and tell me the parcel post rate. I was still filling out the label and the following conversation occurred:

Postal Clerk: You’re not allowed to do that.
Me: Do what?
PC: That’s a Priority Shipping label and you’re not allowed to use the label if you’re not shipping the package Priority.
Me: Well, I’m going to do it anyway. It’s a label, not a contract.
PC: I’m not going to ship that package parcel post with a Priority label on it.
Me: Fine, then don’t.

I took my package over to the automated postal machine in the lobby, paid for the parcel post stamp ($9) and dropped the package in the box. Problem solved. Or so I thought.

Yesterday my nephew called to thank me for the gift. I was surprised it had arrived so soon; parcel post usually takes all week to travel across the country. I assumed it was a fluke, but then my bother got on the line and told me what really happened. The package arrived Priority Shipping postage due to the tune of $17. There was an official postal form attached to it explaining that the package had been re-routed from parcel post to Priority Shipping due to the fact that the address label was a Priority Shipping label. The mail man who delivered the box to my brother told him he could refuse the package or pay the postage due. So he paid the $17.

I don’t care about the money. What bothers me is the creepy clerk. He felt so strongly about enforcing the postal code that he actually left his counter position, looked for my package, and filled out the form to change the delivery method. I had my first stalker and didn’t even realize it!

Did he do this just for spite? Did he get some perverse pleasure from adhering to the strict letter of postal law? Was he trying to teach me a lesson?

The next time I go to the post office I will be sure to take home a stack of Priority Shipping labels to use as scrap paper at my desk. I have to make up the $17 some how.