Sometimes people should just listen. I didn't expect the clerk at the post office window to solve my problem, but I did want to tell him what my problem was. He didn't let me, so I'm going to tell you instead.

As you know (I love saying that), I never buy anything for myself in even-numbered months (like August, as a random example). So on the last day of July I went on a bit of an online spending spree. Nothing elaborate, just a book and a video. That's not really a spree, except in the sense that I won't be buying anything else until the first of September.

My last package should have been delivered by my mail carrier yesterday. Instead, she left me a note in the mailbox saying how "sorry" she was that she missed me, and that I could pick up the package at the local post office this morning, any time after ten. So I took the slip to the post office this morning and handed it to the clerk.

Now, I know that my carrier didn't try to bring the package to my door to get a signature. I know that because I was home all afternoon and found the notice in the mailbox the last time I checked. It makes me believe that it wasn't my regular carrier, because she always comes to my door when she has something that doesn't fit in the box.

The clerk this morning took the peach-colored notice and disappeared into the back room. When I caught a glimpse of him back there on the phone, I suspected I was in trouble. He came out and told me that my package wasn't in this office and it wasn't in the other office either. I started to tell him my story, and he talked right over me as he wrote down a phone number. He suggested that I call first before coming back, to save myself an unnecessary trip.

But— you see— I mean—

I was left there babbling at the window while he was motioning to the next person in line to step up. That pissed me off more than not getting my package. I wanted to tell him that my regular carrier always delivers my packages. I wanted him to know that I go to that post office every day anyway, and I'd expect my package to be there tomorrow.

It's not that I wanted to complain. I don't really believe in complaining for the sake of complaining. All I wanted to do was give them information that might help them find my package. All I wanted was to be sure they knew what I knew. I don't even remember what's supposed to be in the package, but I really wanted somebody to care that I didn't get it.

I spend enough time not being noticed. I don't need to be invisible at the post office.

Foolishly, I half expected that package to be delivered by my carrier this afternoon at the usual time. I mean, if it wasn't in the post office, maybe it was on the truck. That's what I thought. I was wrong, and now I have to think about it for one more day. If I don't get it tomorrow, then I will feel like complaining.