One or two of you may remember as far back as last Saturday when I wrote a wee scribble about a bone idle postman?
Just to recap – I was expecting delivery of a parcel, but instead all I got was a form telling me that the parcel was not delivered as “I was not in at the time of delivery” and that I could collect it in Skobieville if I wanted it.
Seeing as I was in at the time, this miffed me ever so slightly as it meant a ten mile round trip to collect something that had been within inches of my grasp.
I complained to his boss.
So what happened after? I’m sure you have all been waiting on the edge of your seats to hear the outcome?
On Monday I collected the parcel, two speeding tickets and a parking fine. A normal jaunt into Skobieville, in other words. I decided to put the whole episode behind me and forget about it [along with the speeding tickets and the parking fine].
On Tuesday morning I was having a grand lie in, when the doorbell rang. I should explain that the doorbell is attached to the ceiling of the room directly beneath my bed, so it is the equivalent to being woken by a bomb. As usual, I rushed down to open the front door before whoever it was decided I wasn’t in.
I opened the door, and there was a young lad standing there, wearing a bright yellow day-glo thingy with An Post written on it. It was my friend the stand-in postman.
I immediately thought he had called to apologise, which would have been the right thing, but no, the little cunt had called to complain. So he stood there in his Day-Glo and I stood there in my pelt while he berated me for putting a black mark on his record. He insisted that he had rung the doorbell. I pointed out that if he had rung the doorbell I would have heard it. He accused me of sleeping through the racket. I pointed out that I hadn’t been able to sleep through the racket a few minutes earlier, and the sight of me standing there was proof that I can hear my own fucking doorbell.
I almost felt sorry for him. He was young, impetuous and lazy. He reminded me of myself at that age. I would have probably not bothered to deliver the parcel either. I apologised. I told him I was very sorry I had put a black mark on his employment record.
To make things up to him, I let him play with Woodya.
Or maybe I should say I let Woodya play with him?
Jayzus but that dog has a fucking lethal jaw!
I hope our replacement-stand-in-postman is a little more considerate…