It's moments like these that undisputedly makes me believe that there's some Higher Order involved that occasionally likes to bitchslap me across the face.
Okay, everybody knows the mail system here sucks. It's awful. Nobody receives their packages on time, its hit or miss whenever the mail room decides to be open, or even sometimes if you'll ever receive the package. Yes, its that bad. In fact, in fall quarter, my parents sent me an overnight package of a home-cooked meal (yes, my parents spoil me) along with some gloves, caps, and scarves that I left at home that the Evanston October winds necessitated. My parents called me, told me when it's arriving, and I went to check the next morning. Package not received. Alright, it could come later in the afternoon, so I check later. Still no package. I check the next day, and then the day after that, then a couple of days after that, and still no word. I order something from Amazon a week later, and receive that package within a few days afterwards, and still, no sign of the original package. My parents start worrying, as it contained a good 1/2 pound of winter clothes and casserole; a whole month passes and the package still has yet to show up anywhere. Finals arrive and I deem the package officially a lost cause until I get a call from the mail room of a package that "had been sitting there for a while." I go and find the poor guy, dent and bruised, and check its mail date. It had been two months and four days since it had been overnighted. I won't go into detail onto the horror and stench that package wrought upon after so many days of neglect. I'll just say that it was rank. It was awful.
So, present day, I'm expecting a package from the parents of some vitamins and records I left in Baton Rouge and also eagerly anticipating those Disney animation DVDS I'd been talking about. I'd been expecting that first package for a while now, almost a week, and had been checking the mail room these past few days. I'd make sure I'd coincide with its hours, and go check- and every single time the mail room had been closed. Okay, whatever, I'll check later. So the week's over now, classes done, midterms slayed, and the weekend near. I check the hours, and find that it's right in the middle of the room's shift. I borrow Andy's keys (mine have been missing since January) and I hop over with Leo across the street-- and whaddyaknow?! It's CLOSED. AGAIN. This was about the fourth time in a row that it's happened, and fuming, I walked penis back to the dorm (this is the tiny stuff I get most angry about). This was it; I finally did what I had so giddily imagined and fantasized ever since Freshman Year when I had recieved that financial aid information a week late: I emailed the Hinman Mail room supervisor, Janelle Jansen.
"I'm going to make this simple and short. In the past two weeks I've been to the 1835 Hinman Mail Room, I have found it closed and without service. I always coincide with the hours posted on the door, and it doesn't matter if its in the beginning, middle, or end of the shift, NOBODY IS THERE. I would understand if this was an occasional problem every now and then but for the past two weeks several people and I have not been able to get packages from the mailroom when we want it. I'm unaware of any current personnel problems going on, but regardless, this is just another example of the terrible mail system of this university. Last quarter I did not receive a package that contained food products (overnight delivery) among other important accessories (gloves, scarves, etc) until two months after expected due date. I only ask that if you're going to post hours for the mail room, at least abide by them, and if nobody's going to be running the mail room for the day, please notify us in advance. I shouldn't have to emphasize the importance of mail and receiving important packages (financial aid, medicinal supplies, etc) on time.
Miguel Jiron"
I had written the email out of almost two years of frustrations and cursings. Something had to be done about this, and I deemed myself the messenger, funneling my anger to the idiot who's in charge of the packages of south campus. I send the email and presto!
I get a knock on my door. Its Leo. He told me actually had just called Janelle Jansen; she was coming over to open it up in a few minutes. Whatever, awkwardness aside, I really wanted to see if I got that DVD for the weekend. We're walking over and Leo says, "Yeah I think I actually know her. I've seen her around, I think..." Man, I think, that would be kind of embarassing. I wonder if I know her? Janelle...Janelle...
And then it came to me. This was the same girl that last year, in a drunken stupor of a party, I had flirted with and, at the end of the night, went in for a rejected kiss. It turned out she was the girlfriend of a good friend of Pat King, who was my dorm neighbor at the time, who I see all the time. Rejection coupled with humiliation equals personal horror in my book, and this was the text book example. She had brushed it off her shoulder like nothing had happened, and I pretended to as well; she has been nothing but the nicest girl to me ever since. I get that feeling in my stomach, like a brick dropped on a Timpani drum, and realized I had just sent this awful hate-filled email to this same girl- the keeper of the Hinman mail room. We get there, and sure enough, it's that Janelle, with her boyfriend. She gives me this beaming "Hey! I have two of your packages!" as she hands over Leo his delivery.
I tried to make my apology-in-advance as least-awkward as possible, though sometimes that's not my strongest suit. I grabbed my two packges in shame, feeling like the ultimate jackass. And to top it off, Leo left before me and I had left Andy's keys in the room so I'm locked out of the dorm, standing outside wallowing in embarrasment. I guess this could mean a couple of things: anger and hate usually aren't the most positive and constructive forces out there, and that also, Birthdaypalooza and booze are a must tonight. I guess I'll see you there, I'll be the guy in the corner with orange splotches on my cheek like the AIM "Embarassed" Smiley Face. And who knows? Janelle will probably there too! Great! Aaaaaah....
