I can think of ways that package could have been worse.
Oh, it could have been much worse, including graphics or brown stains.
But the content were, in the recent vernacular, a Major Award; an 11 laminate piece of ash steam bent into a complete U shape that Doug needs for some boatwork, and I wanted to make sure it actually arrived without the USPS calling out the HazMat team.
Those packages are fun for me in several ways. One is thinking up some embarrassing, disgusting or kinky faux label, a thought process that works best late at night when I am about 4 beers and two bowls in the bag, hence the occasional typos on the label.
The other fun part is taking them to my local country post office. The staff there starts laughing and gathers around in anticipation as soon as I walk in the door. That wasn’t always so.
When I sent Doug the first fake-label package a few years ago I walked into the post office with it clutched against my chest with the label on the backside hidden and carefully placed it on the scale with the front address upright and facing the clerk. I hadn’t considered that she should flip it over when stamping it.
I don’t remember what that one was, but she looked at the label, and then looked up at me with a horrified expression. I had to stammer an explanation, “No, no, it’s really nothing like that, it’s a joke on a friend of mine. . . .”
I know my post office enjoys the work. Hell, I know everyones name at my post office now. And I know Doug’s mail lady Tara get’s a laugh out of them as well. I can only guess at how those packages are received at mail processing centers along the way.
Hey Memaquay, I need your address.