My Trip to the Post Office...

Jes here. I tell you that it's me so that no one holds Shawn accountable in any way for anything I'm about to write.
Most of you know me in a general sense, but you're not necessarily familiar with my quirkier sides. So, you should know this is not "general Jes" speaking, this is "Post Traumatic Stress Jes". Worry not, I am well on my way to normalization, which would be a lot cooler if it had more in common with carmelization.
Anyway, brown paper packages are one of Julie Andrew's favorite things, but at no point has she mentioned that going to the post office is one of her favorite things. Julie Andrews and I don't have a whole lot in common. However, her appreciation for brown paper packages and lack of appreciation for the post office is something that we do share.
I should tell you that going to the post office, for me, is much like being the passenger in a speeding car heading toward a giant angry train while the driver of the car is completely distracted by something out the window or the CD changer or whatever, and you know you're going to die but you can't even scream because this driver just picked you up from the dentist's office where you got your jaw wired shut so you weren't even doing so hot in the first place. I don't like going to the post office in China. It is not fun for me.
So this is already how I feel walking towards the post office on Monday afternoon.
I walk into the post office and a woman behind the desk motions me toward the packaging desk. I wait for a while until a man comes and opens my carefully sealed package. He opens it, looks inside, and then reseals it. At this point he communicates to me that I owe him 2 yuan for resealing my package. Now, 2 yuan is not very much, but it is still far too much for what just happened. You can think of this first situation as a small cake. I tell you it's a cake so that you are prepared to hear about how this cake was iced.
I now go to a different desk to send my giant stack of Christmas letters. There's plenty of pushing, line cutting, staring at the foreigner, and all the usual pleasantries. I finally get a woman to help me. She takes my cards and looks through them. (You should know that all of the envelopes are addressed in the Chinese way - address top left, return address bottom right- because my post office in Yong Ning has refused to accept my letters any other way for the last year+) She proceeds to communicate to me via Chinese & gestures that my cards are not acceptable because they are not addressed in the American way and they are going to America. At this point I'm more irritated with my post office in Yong Ning for refusing to accept my normally addressed letters for the last year. I tried to communicate that I had sent many letters to America this way and that it was fine. They "told" me to readdress the envelopes on the back the American way. So I sit down at the desk and readdress almost all of my cards on the back, all the while being pushed, stared at, and all the usual pleasantries. You may consider this a thick layer of icing on the cake.
I'm just about finished and the woman takes my finished stack of cards and looks through them. Then, she stops me. She "tells" me that I had been doing it all wrong and that they wanted me to write my own address in the middle on the back. I lectured her for a few minutes in English about how the middle back of the cards already had the other addresses on them and why did I have to rewrite this stupid cards for the 3rd time when I knew that they would get to their destinations as they were etc., etc., etc. Go ahead and stick a few of those obnoxious little figurines on the cake.
I took my stack of cards and left the post office. I stood outside just breathing for a few minutes not sure what to do next. I walked across the street to KFC, bought a coffee, and sat down to
re-readdress my envelopes.
When I finished I walked back to the post office with that so angry you look happy kind of attitude (similar to how some things are so cold they feel hot... why does that happen, Eric?). When they saw me walk in they looked a little frightened but motioned for me to come to the front of the line. I gave her the stack and she barely even looked at them before she weighed them. She tells me the final cost and I give her my money. As she's getting my change she realizes she made a "mistake" and it would actually be twice as much. Candles?
I pay and I leave.
When I get on the bus back to Yong Ning the money taker walks to the back of the bus. I give her my 3 yuan and then she takes money from everyone else on the back of the bus. Then the woman comes back to me and asks me for money again. I tried to tell her I already paid, but I'm speaking English and she laughs at me and then tells all the other people around how funny it is that the foreigner doesn't speak Chinese and doesn't know she's supposed to pay for the bus. Seriously, woman? I am the only white person on the bus. I may be the only white person you have taken money from ever and you forgot that you took money from me?!?!?!? And today no less?!? So I laughed in that so cold it's hot kind of way, and I paid the woman again. Go ahead and throw a whole new cake on that first one.