For the life of me, I've never dreamed I would ever be wedged in a PhilPost van after I've had my breakfast and I was so full of anticipation for the parcel I was to pick up.

But this morning, I was, because the post office worker handed over my parcel by mistake to some man waiting for his parcel. By the time, they'd rushed out to rectify the error, the man had vanished.

Now I love stopping by the post office because it usually means some nice package is waiting for me. I have, however, always taken issue with the fact that, when you are sent a parcel from overseas, the post office merely sends you a note informing you that you've got a package for pick-up. If they can do that, why can't they send you the package themselves, I wonder? That's why you're the post office. Neither rain nor snow nor heat nor gloom of night and all that jazz. But today was the cherry on top of the ginormous sundae that is my annoyance with government institutions in this country (particularly with the LTO--raaaaa!).

So back to my tale. I was informed by the really rather nice people that they will call me later today--or tomorrow, even--if they receive word from the man who intercepted my parcel. I was panic-stricken, particularly because I didn't know which package it was although I thought it was one from my sister, so I basically interrogated them as to the man's home address, each employee's name, and upon the prompting of my mother made them sign a statement I cooked up on the spot which said that it was their error and that the loss of and any damage to the item will result in them being consigned to the deepest pits of Heck.

After which a post office vehicle pulled up front and I was told to get in and ride to the man's house. So off we went, with me, like I said, wedged in the van; my hips were twisted rather painfully since the front seat really only accommodates two people, and there were three of us, with my shoulders also flat against the woman who mistakenly gave away my parcel. (She attempted small talk and I obliged, it being the holidays. She was talking about the financial pains of raising three children and spoke of a desire to work overseas.)

The result? I would not only get my parcel, but the man would also be spared the trouble of going back to the post office for his stuff. I just found it incredibly amusing that they can take action promptly after all but it seemed that they just preferred taking said action after lunch hour.

The parcel turned out to be my gift I ordered for my boyfriend, which I hadn't expected till January or February, since Amazon said it will be delivered then. Yay! I got a Christmas gift squeaked in under the wire!

Lesson learned: Howling, scowling, and growling can get you pretty damn far, and a written and signed statement will put fear into the heart of anyone, enough to jolt them into action.