Who knew just going to the post office could be so educational!

I was in the line a good hour, and everything seemed to be going swimmingly until these two guys start yelling at each other – one gentleman (??) of the surly, I-don’t-give-a-
damn-about-shaving type; the other a gentleman (again, ??) more of the “I’m well-dressed and suave, and that’s why I have the upper hand in this” type.

I wasn’t paying attention until there was an actual increase in volume, so not sure actually what “we” were arguing about, but from body language and the 10% of the words I caught, I would say Signor Suave-and-well-dressed somehow cut in line, and therefore in front of, Signor I’m-surly-and-unshaven, much to his dismay. Now begins much loud and fast Italian, with a lot of macho “I know that!” and “Well, excuuuuse me!”, and “Fine, yes, fine!” being thrown back and forth.

At first, I had visions of that unthankful American phrase “going postal”, and it’s probability in that moment – but then I noticed one guy in another line with a bemused smile, and a moment later, la donna behind me, who from what I could tell, was saying, “hey dude, we’re all in the same boat here. We all have to wait in line, and who cares if one guy seems to get service before you. It’s one damn guy. We’ll all get our stuff eventually!”

(Not to mention that at that hour, the office was officially closed & the postal employees were working overtime…)

And yes, we all get our stuff eventually – though be advised this does not necessarily mean today. In my case, they claimed I was in the wrong building, and naturally, by the time I arrived at the correct building, l’ufficio was chiuso. I have to go back tomorrow to try again. Same thing with Permesso di Soggiorno. Not the most successful day in terms of dealing with bureaucracy. I guess that’s why I saw this bar on my walk back home…