What can I say? Times are hard, joblessness is roaring through the nation, IHOP is suffering massive cutbacks, yet the government is still finding new ways to take advantage of us all. Now I have never been a level-headed or rational person. In times of desperation I'm often at a loss, which is probably why I signed up to take the test to become a United States postal worker. Now the test center is not to my knowledge affiliated with the post office; it's actually an agency comprised of incompetent, scripted automatons who couldn't find work anywhere else.
Last month I called in to sign up for the postal worker test, and at the end of the session after I had given all of my information I was asked how I was going to pay the test preparation packet fee, which totaled over $100. I didn't know what to say, I felt abused, confused and blind-sighted. So I paid it.
I received the packet about six days later, after a failed attempt to contact the testing service center for cancellation. In fact, during the next few weeks, I tried to call about five times to cancel, each time getting no answer from the helpline. I was stuck. I didn't actually think I had it in me to work for the post office (after one week of employment, the test registration fee is refunded), and I wasn't getting any assistance from the "help center." Even more irritated, I finally connected with the sons-a-bitches today. After speaking to an agent, who was brash and unhelpful, I asked to speak with the supervisor, who repeated the same script which I had just heard.
"No cancellations, that's our policy." I was not informed of this when I registered, so I tried to make a legal point that they had to take back my packet and give me a refund because it was never made clear to me that that was not an option. They weren't having it. I was outraged and shaking in my chair. Who the hell were these people to deny an American their right to return an item? I argued and bickered for over ten minutes with the supervisor at this obscure USPS testing office, which I imagine is attached to a Chick-fil-a somewhere in the Cincinnati metropolitan area.
Finally, this man was so fed up with me and my OUTRAGEOUS request to return the god damn package (unopened, mind you) that he cut me off. He proceeded with the script, "Alright sir, is there anything else I can assist you with today?" This came off as the most smug thing that anyone has ever said to me. Not only had he refused to help me with my small request, he knew damn well that he wasn't going to be giving me any (additional) assistance. So I replied, "YEA, YOU CAN SHOVE A POLE UP YOUR ASS AND GO FUCK YOUR MOTHER!", and with that the call had ended. I hung up the phone, on the verge of tears, and thought of how I could remedy the situation and make ammends for the $100 that I had never needed more.
After bashing the test packet against my bedpost, I took it in my hands, walked calmly to the garage, doused the packet in gasoline and set the fucking curse on fire. As I watched the flames my nerves calmed and I knew that I would be able to live once again.
No comments:
Post a Comment