The Greenpoint Post Office: An Alien Perspective

December 28, 2011 ·
Filed under: 11222, Fuck This Shit, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic 

As some of you know already yours truly had a rather infuriating experience at our local post office recently. For those of you who are not in the know here’s a general outline:

1. December 17th: my inlaws shipped two packages to Chez Shitty.
2. December 22nd: my inlaws inquired as to whether or not we received said packages. We had not.
3. December 27th: yours truly went to our local post office so as to inquire to their whereabouts. I was told that without a receipt they could not find them. I pointed out that I was not left a receipt— but had been told by the shippers of said packages that they should be here. The employee once again stated that without a receipt there was nothing she could do. This exchange repeated itself at least three times before enough complaining by yours truly merited she look anyway: nothing doing.
4. This I related to my mother-in-law (so she could take up the matter on her end).
5. And I opined on Facebook:

If you love someone— or at the very least doe not HATE them— do NOT make them go to the Greenpoint Post Office.

As of the writing of this post this observation has been “liked” by no less than eleven people. A few have even seen fit to share their experiences with me. For example:

…I never received a package, never got a notice, and went on last night to track said package. Apparently, it is at the Greenpoint P.O., but I don’t have a notice. Coincidence??

Curiosity piqued, I decided to see what the “bathroom wall of the Internet” (Yelp) had to say about this establishment. Suffice it to say my experience (and frustration) were shared by a number of my fellow citizens. Here are two of my personal favorites:

You know that expression, “to go postal on somebody?” Just try to get anything mail-related accomplished here – you’ll be wishing concealed firearms were legal. I once stood in line for 30+ minutes, only to have the last remaining postal worker close her window in my face 15 minutes before closing. From the slow-as-molasses lines to the always missing supplies to the sour faces of the employees, this nightmare of a place would make even Freddy Krueger scared to come back.

Breathtaking incompetency, nothing is stocked (pens/forms), and the clerks are beyond rude. I literally have never waited less than 35 minutes at this PO.  They should fire all of the staff and hire some monkeys.  At least then you would understand why s**t was flung in your face every time you went in.


To be fair there are a few favorable reviews of this place. There is at least one helpful employee there to my recollection. But the previous are the exceptions to the rule. So I began imagining who would actually like the Greenpoint Post Office. The logical conclusion I drew was a misanthropic, misogynistic extra-terrestrial which savors human misery and is bent on world domination.

I decided to have some fun with this idea (Hey, it’s not like it is going to change anytime soon. If anything after this community is “developed”, it’ll get worse) and authored a “review” on “Zartek’s behalf. Follows is a teaser/snippet:

Salutations Earthlings,

My name is Zartek. I hail from a planet far from your own. I recently had the pleasure of visiting the place you call “earth”. My rationale for this journey is roughly along the lines of what you earthlings call “poverty tourism”. The crucial difference is I am not interested in rest and relaxation inside a fortified paradise protected from grinding human misery. Rather, my ideal vacation is direct contact with human misery.

And after some research via Yelp I deduced the Greenpoint Post Office was just the place for me!


Photo Credits: The image of the Ark of the Covenant being handled by a “top man” hails from the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Ode To The Greenpoint Post Office

April 21, 2010 ·
Filed under: 11222, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic 

Recently the Mister decided to purchase yours truly a new compact disc player. This was a decision he rued because:

  • as soon as he brought it home I put it to good use (if you do not want someone to listen to Guns n Roses, do NOT buy her a new compact disc player).
  • it entailed a trip to our local Post Office.

Before Mister Heather endeavored to do the previous he swung by my job to see if he could bring me lunch afterward. I said he could and I placed my order. BIG MISTAKE. I waited. And waited. I started to get light-headed. I was cursing the Mister under my breath. One hour later he showed up: he has just gotten done at the Post Office. The usual litany of complaints followed a cold lunch:

  1. It is understaffed.
  2. The employees are churlish.
  3. There were disgruntled customers shouting in various languages.
  4. And so on and so forth…

I myself have witnessed all the previous— and more. In my estimation every third visit to the Post Office results in me bearing witness someone going into a tirade. Once in a blue moon they are even in English. One time I  heard a gentleman “explain” to an Postal employee (who would not let him pick up his wife’s parcel) that the reason he and his wife do not have the same last name was because (and I quote):

It is the 21st Century and my wife is not my property.

Another time I watched an employee explain to a rather tall and comely blonde that she could not receive mail under the moniker “Mistress so and so”. All mail sent to her highness had to be under he legal name. I won’t lie you: I was very amused by this dialogue. It made the twenty minute wait to pick up a package totally worth it.

These are but a few of my thoughts about the Greenpoint Post Office. On a lark I decided to see what the folks on Yelp have to say about this local institution. It isn’t pretty. Chris K. writes:

If I hadn’t been to other Brooklyn post offices, I’d say this one is merely trying to replicate Soviet Bloc-era Polish bureaucracy.

Use the automatic postage machines whenever possible.  They are more charming, exude more panache, and are infinitely more helpful than the staff.  Why? Mail something here, and you will probably encounter a woman best regarded as the retarded sister of Judge Milian from the People’s Court.  She’s a know it all, which means she probably received just slightly better than “pass” on her civil service exam, but I’ll tell you what, she doesn’t know the most important thing of all —

She sucks. Bad.

Newsflash: you don’t work on commission, so don’t try to make me pay more than I have to for postage.  And by what fit of logic are you telling me that my book can’t go in a flat rate envelope?

She’s easy to spot.  The one who probably kills kittens in her spare time. That one.  Fire her.

Mr. Mets was more succinct and to the point:

Just look at the picture – it’s self explanatory

You can read (and contribute to) the rage by clicking here. In closing, I am the only person who is noticing that their delivery people are not bothering to leave notices for parcels anymore? Thoughts— anyone?

Miss Heather

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