Going Postal

Does anybody know where the phrase 'going postal' came from?

I'm sure it has something to do with someone going insane at a post office ... like I almost went today.

I don't understand people that work in some of these government offices. Why are they so sullen, bitter, moody, and angry? They've got one of the easiest jobs in the world and yet they act as if asking for a stamp means that they have to move heaven and earth for you.

Take today, for example. I went to the post office and got a package slip. So I went to the counter where I'm supposed to claim my package. When I went the counter and placed the slip in the tiny window, the guy who was just sitting there staring off into space, gave me the look of death. I swear, his look clearly said - could you not see that I was busy doing nothing? Did you have to make me actually do some work today? I was so angry.

This is their job. If they hate it, why can't they find something more motivating, challenging, or exciting? And it's not like it takes great skill or energy to do what they're doing.

He grabbed the paper out of my hand and said 'shenoo hatha'? Thank god there was that glass barrier between us because I swear I wanted to reach out and slap him. I just ignored his comment and finally he snapped 'bataka' - I calmly handed him my id card - silently thinking to myself -- if he had simply done his job without an attitude, then both his day and mine would have gone so smoothly. Finally my white package slipped transformed into a pink one which he shoved in my direction as he barked 'rooh Keifan.'

I knew this was going to happen as all personal packages go to Keifan, so I quickly rushed there.

I was pretty excited as I knew this was my birthday package from D and I really wanted to get it so that I could open it tomorrow. It was already 12:25 and I knew that the post office was closing at 1 so I just hoped I'd make it there on time.

Thank goodness, I did. I went to the express package counter and they got my package in a minute ... now came the time when they were going to go through my stuff.

I was really hoping that they wouldn't ... I mean, it's my birthday present. It's wrapped. I wanted to open it ... and of course, above all, I didn't want to see what was in it, I wanted to wait.

So, I took a chance and told the guy - I know you have to open it, but I don't want to see what's inside. He was a little suprised at my statement. So I explained, tomorrow's my birthday and I want it to be a surprise. He just said ok, have a seat.

I heard him open the box and cut through some paper and then move things around. I didn't want to look - I didn't have the heart to see all the wrapping paper all over the place.

Finally I heard him say he was finished. I went to get my box and saw that he hadn't ripped any of the paper. He had just slit the top to look inside. I was so relieved. So he handed back the box and said Happy Birthday ... then paused and had a slight smile on his face and said (with his hand still on the box) do you want to know what's inside? And we both just laughed as a exclaimed 'No!'

See -- is it so difficult to have a bit of a sense of humor and be nice? I mean, he was polite so I was polite to him. He worked quickly and efficiently, and I appreciated it.

Why can't it always be like that?