I went to mail out a couple packages last week, and I boxed one of my items up in a priority box from their little stall of free boxes. I got up to the counter with my things packaged and taped, ready to go.
Apparently a medium flat rate box got in with the free boxes and I just didn't realize while I was packaging it. Anyway, I noticed up at the counter, and this is the exchange I had with the woman helping me.
Me: Oh, I didn't realize I put this in a flat rate box, I just need to go repack this. Her: Uh, you're just going to waste my box? Just going to throw it away or what? Me: It must have fallen in with the free ones, I don't want to ship this flat rate. Her: It's already in a flat rate box, and I'm already at the counter, so that's how you need to send it. Me: The hell I need to. I'm just going to repackage this, I'll be back in a moment.
Ok, maybe I am not completely innocent here, afterall, I did mistakenly grab the wrong box, but it was in the wrong place to begin with, and her attitude was shit from the second I walked up there.
So, I repacked my box, threw the wasted one in the recycling bin and made my way back up to the counter.
Her: All set now? Figure it all out? (in a mocking, antagonizing tone) Me: Yeah, it's fine. Her (to other postwoman that happened to walk up): This is the one that's wasting all our flat rate boxes. Me: It was mixed in with the free boxes, I grabbed it by mistake. Her: I bet. Your total is $5.xx.
The rest of the transaction was unremarkable, but really now, what the fuck is your problem?
Mild cab suck. Perhaps I can get some advice on how to deal with this in the future?
My address is 10.5 Xxx Road. It is not 10 Xxx Road. It is 10.5 Xxx Road. There is even a 12.5 Xxx Road up the street.
I missed my bus so I called a cab.
"Hi, can I get a cab to 10.5 Xxx road please?"
Me: "Can I get a cab to 10.5 Xxx Road?"
Him: "You mean 10 Xxx Road."
Me: "No, my address is 10.5 Xxx Road."
Him: "What do you mean it is 10.5 Xxx Road!?!?" (he sounded very agitated at this point and it made me a little nervous)
Me: "Uh... 10.5 Xxx Road is actually my address. I don't live at 10 Xxx Road. I live at 10.5 Xxx Road."
Him: "Alright." *hangs up*
Luckily, I decided to go outside and wait for the cab that day. A cab pulls into my drive-way and I run up to it. I told the driver about the rude dispatcher. The dispatcher had sent the driver to 10 Xxx Road. The driver had missed 10 Xxx Road and used my driveway to turn around. If I had not have decided to stand outside this day (usually, I stay inside and peek out the window), I would have missed my cab. Taxi driver agreed with me that some of the dispatchers can be incredibly rude. Thanks for the warning, buddy.
I say it as Ten Point Five. I wonder if I say it as Ten And A Half if it will make a difference.
EDITED TO ADD: Instead of responding to each comment individually, I just want to say thank you for the advice and next time I will try saying Ten And A Half to see if it makes a difference. I'm used to giving my address to people who have to write it down for something and Ten Point Five just made more sense to say in that situation.
Earlier today my mum noticed that there were three men messing with our fence. They were stood on the street so we thought it was no big deal. They might have been admiring the wood or the style of the fence (not that anyone would ever do that since the fence is crap and falling apart) so we left them to it. Well, a couple of minutes later two of the guys walked through our gate and into our garden. They walked over the lawn so they could chat with the guy who was standing on the street. Me and my mum watched them for a bit, not knowing what to do or what to say. Neither of us are confrontational so we left them and just watched from a distance to see if they would go away. For twenty minutes at least. Then my mum said enough is enough and went out.
Turned out they were from the *council (they were contractors so didn't have uniform) and were under instructions to fix people's fences on our street because they were falling apart. That is true, they are. My mum said that that was okay, but they should have knocked on the door and told us first. That's the big problem. The fact that they just walked into our garden and started messing around, without uniforms on. They could have been anybody. Also, they weren't even doing anything after awhile. They were just stood in our garden talking.
*The council is a local government. They rent out houses called council houses and provide service to the houses, sometimes by actual uniformed workers, but sometimes by contractors. So if a fence needs fixing, or a door, or a faulty heater, the council comes and fixes it.