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Save It For Tomorrow My manager resigned this morning, taking a job with a securities company across the Bay in San Francisco. We call that securities company our West coast annex because although I've never done more than meet someone for lunch in the lobby of one of their buildings, I know many people who work there, people who have left our company for greener pastures, some of them drinking buddies. I have no idea what this means except it feels a little strange.
I ducked over to the post office this morning around ten to pick up
It's late. I've finally had an idea for today's journal entry after noodling around with the paragraphs above, but I'll save it for tomorrow. Been a long day and I'm feeling tired. |
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those change of address cards. This is the large post office at the base
of the federal building in Oakland and there were perhaps fifteen people
standing in line waiting for one postal clerk at one of six open stations.
The people in line had bags and bundles and boxes of mailable items they
were examining and rearranging and preparing for their turn in line: stacks
of envelopes, money order forms made out to twenty seven different cousins,
packages that needed weighing, stamping, tying, licking, kicking and
discussing with that one lone postal clerk who was taking his time. Nobody
seemed disturbed, nobody was complaining. It was as if they'd signed
on through the millenium. I opted for the door. I think you can buy change
of address cards at stationary stores. There's one across the street from
the office.