King Of Postage

You know you're posting too much when your local Post Office gives you a proper mail sack with which to carry your packages next time. Such was the case today when I brought in a number of items, following a particularly heavy eBay session at the weekend.

I like to consider myself a considerate person. My local Post Office is small, and always has long queues. Therefore, I bring in all my post, pre-stamped. Because when you are the 'King Of Postage', like what I am, you know that these days it's really easy to print your own stamps online, with your computer. This is what I do. This way, I ensure that all my items are properly paid for, and that I do not unduly inconvenience other people who might be waiting in a queue behind me and my 12 differently-sized differently-weighted items.

Yes, I am the very model of consideration. Of course not everyone is so considerate. While I could just barge to the front of the queue and say "Excuse me, packages coming through. Hello Doris, pop these in the sack for tonight would you? Ta, sweetie." I do not actually do so. I take my place in the queue along with everyone else. This often means that I am forced to wait behind people who are misusing the Post Office for their own time-wasting needs. Such as renewing their Car Tax, or something else equally long-winded and time-consuming that usually involves lots of forms and explanation. Who are these people to delay me and my packages? Er, by which I mean, to delay the old ladies and busy businesspeople who queue alongside me?

On a couple of occasions I have found myself queueing behind pretenders to the throne. One chap, who had been given a proper mail sack some months before I was awarded the honour, was clearly a vigorous and energetic eBay seller. He had many packages, which he would, Santa-style, individually withdraw from his sack and pass over the counter for consideration, weighing and stampage. His packaging had style - nice grey mailing sacks, a type of which I am aware yet eschew the use of. He did not use adhesive labels but instead the luxury "DOCUMENTS ENCLOSED" see-through envelopes, into which he laboriously folded the PayPal receipts. He may have the glossy mailing paraphernalia, but he was not the King of Postage, spending more than 20 minutes occupying one of the two whole serving counters that my Post Office has open during busy periods.

Later, there was one bearded fellow who had brought a great number of packages in a washing bag. (I like to think I invented that fashion, but these days I prefer the sturdy Sainsburys reusable bags.) He too had many packages - again being handed over slowly, one at a time.. "Now this one.. is going to Luton.. and I think I'd like to send that.. hmm... yes, second class, and recorded delivery as well." - He had volume, but he too was not the King of Postage. Little did he know who was standing behind him.

As the window next to him became free, I made my move. "Hello, can I drop these in, please? I think you'll find they already have stamps on." The bearded man turns and can only look on in astonishment as the King of Postage fires package after package after package across the counter, swiftly, not stopping or even slowing down, ensuring that his business is conducted with speed, efficiency, and minimal delay for the remaining old ladies in the queue.

"That's fine, thankyou" smiles the lady behind the glass, pleased to have serviced the King. "Thanks, Doll. Don't go changing." says the King, offering a wink as he turns around, pausing only momentarily to glimpse at the bearded man, still waiting with his unstamped packages, before going on his royal way to the door and back out into the cool city afternoon.

"There goes the King", I'm sure the ladies were saying once I was out of earshot. And who could argue with that?