“Number 76, 77,78!”, the lady shouted. A middle-aged lady, always wearing her big smile. I’m not sure of her nationality but she looked Japanese to me. She doesn’t have any accent though. She’s always so nice and very helpful.
I was hoping she’ll call my number when suddenly a guy interrupted her. “I’m 60” he exclaimed. A middle-aged Asian guy, wearing some wrinkles on his innocent face. Darn, he really reminded me of my Dad.
“No, no... we don’t go back! Number 79!” the lady continued calling priority numbers. The Post Office is quiet full this time and I just waited patiently on the bench.
“No, I was just here packing my box!” he insisted while pointing on the box at the table.
“You didn’t go anywhere?” she asked. “No” he replied.
“Okay, come over here”, she requested. He didn’t write the labels on it and so she handed the papers he need to fill up. He was so slow. I’m not sure what’s going on but I was guessing, he can’t write it in English or he’s not used at writing alphabets. He’s Chinese, I guessed.
“Stop! Stop, stop!” she said in a much louder voice each time. The guy was so confused and he looked at her with so much innocence and disbelief.
“I’m not done yet” he said calmly.
“Okay, I’ll help you with that. It’s just there are too many people waiting” she said while grabbing the pen and the paper.
“We love you, you know that? So, keep coming back, okay?” she whispered. She realized she had hurt his feelings. "We love you" she repeated with a big smile.
I was touched by such gestures of hers and I could understand her stress at work. On the other hand, I can really see my Dad’s eyes in that guy.
I was a li’l teary when the Postman called my number and even when I told my husband about the incident. Ah, cry baby me, eh?