My Rage Knows No Bounds...

It seemed so simple, to want a passport.

But no, I can not has.

Why?

The fucking assholes at the post office are the worst group of people anyone has to deal with to get anything done.

First, their schedules suck. 10am-3pm for passport stuff? Really?

Second, half the time their cameras are broken. Which isn't a problem if one has AAA, one can just go there and get photos.

Until...

One gets to the ONE person in the ENTIRE goddam post office who's authorized to handle passports. She stares at photos and says rudely, Oh, this won't work. Your bangs cover your eyes.

THAT WOULD'VE BEEN GOOD INFORMATION TO HAVE WHEN I TOOK THE FUCKING PHOTO TO BEGIN WITH.

Dear Husband is able to complete his application.

Walk back to car.

Curse wildly.

Drive home to change crappy shirt and slap on makeup.

Note there's only two more hours to get new photos and get back to post office.

Drive to AAA.

Get new photos. Doesn't get charged, so no one dies.

Drive to post office.

Stand in line.

Find out that the rude "lady" is off in the back somewhere, talking on the phone to a "supervisor". No one else can handle passports, of course.

After 20 minutes, another worker comes out and suggests going to another nearby post office, as one allegedly has a half hour of time left to complete everything.

Stomp back to the car, drive like a crazy person to the other post office.

Park with a half hour left to do the job.

Go in, and notice the big fucking sign that has CHANGED THE DAMN HOURS THAT PASSPORTS CAN BE DONE.

Am now a half hour LATE to accomplish the seemingly simple fucking goal of handing over money for a fucking passport.


I now understand why shootings in post offices happen.


The DH doesn't help by talking about how long it took him to get his initial passport years ago driving to Hawthorne and other such crap. Right, OK.

I get it.

Everything you do is harder than what I do.

FINE.

YOU FUCKING WIN.

I THINK I'M HAVING A BREAKDOWN.