Priority

Today I went to the post office to send Morgan a package. I stood in a short line and then said I wanted to send it priority. The guy, he had tattoos , I thought he’d be easygoing, said he couldn’t do it because the box said express on it.
Can’t you just cover up the word with a priority sticker.
No.
But they do it at my other post office.
Can’t.
Just a sticker over the little word? No one will even know.
I’ll have to ask my supervisor.
He then went into the back, probably through three iron doors hermetically sealed, gained entrance with a pressed hand and then a lick on the side for DNA. There, in a little booth, the black-haired worn out supervisor sat smoking a cig, reading a stamp collecting manual. No, that’s too interesting. She sat in the booth smoking a cig and sniffing under her arms periodically to make sure she was still alive. The tattoo guy bowed down before her and said:
There’s a bitch out front.
Not again.
Yes, can I have a cigarette?
Go ahead but it’ll be deducted from your pay.
Thanks your highness.
Go on.
She wants to send a priority package in an express box.
Fucking Idiot.
Do you have a light?
You want me to smoke the damn thing for you too?
I’m sorry your excellency. So what should I tell her?
Tell her to go fuck herself on a weather-beaten raft in the high seas.
I don’t know if that’ll work.
And why not?
She has the look.
Oh really?
Yes, she won’t take no for an answer.
Let me have a crack at her.
I was hoping you'd say that, my supreme majesty.
So here I am still waiting. There’s a good line behind me now. They’re smiling though. They have good lives. They work hard. They have friends. I’m waiting, and the tattoo guy comes back followed by this black-haired troll, wrinkled, tired, lifeless. The tattoo guy points to me.
Yes? Says the troll.
I wanted to send this package priority.
Oh you do.
Yes but there aren’t any priority boxes this size. Can we just put a sticker over the word express?
No we can’t.
Why?
If I do that for you, I’ll have to do it for everyone else.
So.
So.
So?
I can’t do that.
You can’t just put a sticker over the express thing? Cover up the word?
No (stupid) I can’t.
Ok, well can I have a bigger box?
We don’t have any. You can buy one of those.
Oh. No, I can’t.
Well.
Ok then, thank you.
Have a nice day.
So I went down a few blocks to the next PO and guess what, they did it. No problem. No questions asked. Covered up the word express with a priority sticker. 7 bucks. Done.
I don’t have a lot of free time but I had to go back. This was important. I stood in a long line. I whistled. I jiggled the change in my pockets. Said hello to each newcomer who stood in line behind me. It was like church. Peace be with you. All right. Amen.
I got to the front of the line.
Can you get your superior off her wrinkled dry ass and tell her I’d like to speak with her.
Yes ma’am.
Thank you Tattooey.
Right away.
I winked at the lady behind me. A few minutes went by.Not long. The troll reappeared.
What is it now.
Just thought you’d like to know I mailed my box. I mailed it priority even though the box said express. The mail-lady put the stickers on it herself, and guess what, she was smiling. She asked me how I was. She asked me if I needed anything else. She even gave me the cheaper price and guess why, because she has love in her life. She has friends. She cares about herself and others. She is kind and intelligent and will probably live happily for a long time. I’m sorry you’re so miserable, but I had to tell you, you’re not taking me down with you. Then I cleared my throat and started singing "You're not going to take me down, you mean unhappy person. You try to slap me in the face with your anger and hatred but it just won't work". Then Tatooey and a few people in line joined in, "you're not going to take me down. You mean unhappy person. You think it's okay to hate everything but it's not. You're sad because you say no all the time and judge everyone and send your negativity out into the univerrrrrrrsse ", then the chorus came in, "You're not going to take me down" and we all joined hands and swayed and sang to her, and the man with a deep voice in the back had a solo "You just need some fresh air and maybe some healthy foooood and should hang out with children and stop pretending you know everything" and we sang the chorus one more time and ended in a single note, the sound of our voices still ringing in the air.