The walk to the post office in the hot, sticky afternoon sun is not doing wonders for my calm. Also, I haven't showered yet, so I'm a little self-conscious, like, is it possible that I am the source of that funk that I keep catching a whiff of?
So when the woman at the other window sends me back into line yet again, I engage in some positive self-talk: I am here to be kind, to make this world better, and these people are just doing their jobs, however poorly, and I am going to be fucking pleasant, dammit.
So I smile at (quick glance to the name tag) Kim while she finishes filling out a form, and when she finally acknowledges my presence, I walk up to her window, slide the delivery tag she asked me to print out under the three inches of bulletproof glass, and, still smiling, say, "Hey, thanks for your help with all this."
One year ago: Washed Clean
Two years ago: She Reminded Me of Her Name Soon After
Three years ago: Blast From the Past
Four years ago: My Problems With Authority Stem From My Problems With Stupidity