So it’s not just my imagination — the Post Offices in Brooklyn really are worse than the ones in Manhattan. I think about this all the time: it’s one of the downsides of living in the ‘hood. My neighbor and I were commiserating last night about how awful it is to see one of those yellow notices in our mailbox, telling us we have to trudge down to the grimy local Post Office to wait on line for a half hour while surly troglodytes scream at us through an inch of plexiglass. Just yesterday morning she earned valuable brownie points by chasing after the mailman so he didn’t disappear with a package of mine, saving me from a saturday morning trip to hell.
This morning, as I was dropping off some of the eBay packages (by the way, I keep finding more old treasures to auction, so keep checking that out), the very friendly woman at the very efficient Post Office at 34th between Park and Lex was surprised that I had carried the boxes in from Brooklyn, but then confessed (across the open desk when we conducted our transaction) that she’s heard nothing but awful stories abut the conditions there. I told her about my fear of seeing the dreaded yellow slip, and she agreed sympathetically.