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So I& #39;m standing in the Post Office queue, concentrating on keeping the gap between myself and the people in front and behind me at the right distance. The lady serving the customer at the front of the queue asks him & #39;For safety purposes, can I just ask what& #39;s inside the package?& #39;
Man: Why do you need to know?
*Immediately, everyone in the queue stops tutting and sighing, suddenly we& #39;re all ears*
Staff: For security reasons, we need to know what& #39;s being mailed.
Man: I& #39;d prefer not to say.
*Everyone in the queue now turns to face this man, including a baby*
*Immediately, everyone in the queue stops tutting and sighing, suddenly we& #39;re all ears*
Staff: For security reasons, we need to know what& #39;s being mailed.
Man: I& #39;d prefer not to say.
*Everyone in the queue now turns to face this man, including a baby*
Anyway, the lady& #39;s repeating how if he wants to mail this item today, she needs to know what& #39;s inside. The guy& #39;s going red and has stepped back from the counter. We& #39;re all thinking & #39;It& #39;s a vibrator. It& #39;s a fucking vibrator. If it has batteries, he has to declare that.
She then says he& #39;s holding up the queue, he turns around and EVERYONE is staring at him. He goes so red, I might have skin cancer now. It is silent, the guy is thinking. Then says & #39;Do you really need to know?& #39; she replies & #39;Yes sir for security reasons& #39;.
& #39;FINE IT& #39;S A SEX GLOVE!& #39;
& #39;FINE IT& #39;S A SEX GLOVE!& #39;
Nobody in the queue was ready for that. Some did the dog comprehension head tilt, the baby started crying at the shouting, I kinda died for the guy, a man at #2 in the queue frantically looked around at everyone in the queue, looking for an answer. I looked at him and shrugged.
The staff member (like a fucking pro) says & #39;That& #39;ll be £3 please& #39;, the guy reaches into his pocket -NO FUCKING WALLET. He apologies and calls his wife over WHO HAD BEEN SITTING AT THE SIDE OF THE ROOM! And suddenly we have a new character in this sex play.
The whole queue is desperately trying to figure what the hell a sex glove is when it& #39;s at home, while his wife is now asking him what he& #39;s doing, paying, when it& #39;s supposed to be free to return & #39;As it& #39;s going back& #39;.
The staff tells them they& #39;ll need to print a label from the company it& #39;s going back to. They tut a bit, grab the parcel and leave. I& #39;m shaking, I don& #39;t feel well. We& #39;re all left wondering what a sex glove is, and I& #39;m pretty sure 3 in the queue whipped phones out and googled it.
Anyway. Top entertainment from the Post Office queue, as usual. I cannot, simply cannot believe the guy wouldn& #39;t just say IT WAS A FUCKING GLOVE!
Well, not a fucking glove, buy you know what I mean.
Jesus Christ.
Well, not a fucking glove, buy you know what I mean.
Jesus Christ.
This reminds me of the time when the guy in front of me in the queue was looking at porn on his phone while he was waiting. Who needs to be sexually frustrated in the Post Office? Anyway.
