So the weekend from hell seems to have calmed down, and I’m getting back to my standard everyday grind at the office… One of the exec’s had their laptop damaged at the airport by an esteemed federal employee who dropped the thing and cracked the case. The result being that the power plug was slowly moving towards an eventual snap which would force removal of the motherboard. Long story short, I planned on replacing the motherboard (never fun) and ended up pulling a MacGyver.
I removed a plastic nameplate from one of the storage closets, cut off a small piece of it, then drilled a hole roughly the same circumference as the power adapter. I then took that, added another small bit of plastic so it looked like a big T and Krazy-Glue’d it to the case of the laptop. Now the power adapter slides in easy, the jack doesn’t move, problem averted.
Still, most things this week aren’t without their fair share of drama. Before I discovered that I could cut the plastic with a box-cutter, I ran home for my Dremel. While there, I decided to mail out a bill I had been sitting on for longer than necessary.
I get to the post office, there’s a fair line of people, the 2nd in line being one of those oblivions which I would LOVE to shoot in the back of the head with a tranquilizer dart. Apparently the guy had a post in front of his home where he mounted his mailbox. It was a pair of posts actually, with a horizontal board along the top. Well the folks who lived next door decided to mount their mailbox on his post and oh boy that incurred the wrath of Billy-Bob like I’d never seen.
Now you or I might have just asked the neighbor to install their mailbox on their property. Nigh! This moron waited until the neighbor left, talked to some poor bastard at the Town Hall in Warwick about it, and eventually decided to unload his frustration at the local post office while all I needed was one…single…STAMP.
What this guy wanted to hear, I do not know. However, his repeated explanations and redundant questions made it abundantly clear that he had no desire to drop the subject until the woman behind the counter OK’ed his plan to pull the box out and install it on the neighbors yard.
I’m thinking he was half-trying to find out who the actual owner of the property was, I was tempted to say “Did you try the county-records office? The county clerk? The town clerk?” One thing I’ve learned living in the sticks is that common sense just don’t become some folks.
I ended up leaving the post office after 10 minutes of listening to this cos well, I don’t give a shit about the mailbox, all I want is a stamp, and I have something to do today other than cross-breed with my siblings.