Going Postal

Today I had two annoying shipping related run-ins. This was after spending $20 yesterday to ship a heavy package at the UPS store. Yesterday, we bought birthday gifts for my niece and nephew at Toys R Us. I would normally have just ordered them online, so they'd be shipped, but I had already bought one of the gifts, so was going to have to ship something anyway, so I figured I'd just buy and ship everything myself.

Bad idea. When I got the gifts all nicely packaged up in the big box that fit them all, the box wasn' heavy, but was big. I went online to calculate postage. I didn't have a ruler handy, so I guessed how big the package was. It was going to be over $20 at the post office, or about $20 at UPS, so I decided to ship it UPS.

I also gathered together some other packages to mail at the post office. I managed to sell some of the diaper fabrics I had under the dining room table, so was going to mail those. The most expensive of the fabrics I had wrapped in a nice piece of tissue paper, but I needed a Priority Mail envelope to put it in, since it was at a weird weight that it was cheaper to mail Priority than it would be parcel post. The others were smaller and cheaper. Lalala. Feeling fine. Getting things done. Making money off my crap.

I get all the stuff in my car. Harrison is asleep, but it's already 4:30, so I need to go. I carry him to the car, and he wakes up in the process, but seems fine. Hutton gets in the car of his own volition. Great. Feeling fine.

Get to the UPS Store. Hutton does not want to get out of the car. "Stay here! Stay in car!" I explain to him that I can't leave him in the car, since I don't know how long it will take. Regret not having tinted windows, so I could just go ahead and leave him in the car and not have any busy-bodies telling me how I'm endangering my child by doing so. Get angry and annoyed Hutton, Harrison and giant box out of the car and inside. Hutton immediately starts wanting to use the bathroom, get some water, and other stalling techniques he uses. I tell him he'll have to wait and I get my package on the counter. Harrison happily finds the toy box and stars playing. Hutton gets distracted with reading the numbers on the mailboxes, and forgets his need to pee and drink water. Phew. Feeling fine...wait scratch that. Did the guy just tell me it would be 37 freaking dollars to ship this package?! Jeez. Feeling poor. (Now, I suppose I could have declined to ship the package, and then returned the toys I bought and just mailed a darn gift card. That's what I'll do next time, but I'd already invested two hours or so in the gift buying, so I figured I'd chalk this up to stupidity.)

Hutton is ready to go, but Harrison wants to stay and play with toys. Drag whining child out to car. Get in and head to post office. Hutton again doesn't want to go in, but I tell him he has no choice. Inside, I get a Priority Mail envelope and slip my nicely wrapped fleece fabric inside, while Hutton tells me he needs to use the bathroom and get some water. But still, feeling fine. At least this stuff will not cost much to mail. I've already printed out the Priority Mail postage label at home, so just have to hand it off and pay the cheaper first class mail on the smaller packages.

Get in line. Only a few people. Hutton only tells me he wants to be all done twelve times or so. Get to the counter and hand off my packages. Explain I want first class on the small ones, and the other one is already paid. The clerk puts it on the scale. "Did you weight this at home with the envelope?"
"Yeah."
"It's heavier than what's on the label. I'll have to charge you more."
Distracted by kids, "That's fine."
"OK, it will be $2.90."
I'm about to say, "OK" until I realize she wants to charge me almost $3 more for the weight that the tissue paper must have added to my package.
"Wait, did you say $2.90? It's almost $3 more to ship an extra ounce?!"

The clerk politely explains that it is, and how important it is to weigh things accurately. I tear open the envelope and pull off the tissue paper, then stuff the fleece back in. "What is it now?"

Clerk: "It's still over a pound." She takes the fleece out. The fleece alone weighs 15.9 ounces. The envelope and label apparently add enough weight to make it over a pound. I explain that my scale at home had it at 15 ounces with the label and envelope (well, not the exact envelope, but a plain white envelope of the same material that I didn't want to waste since I knew I could get a free Priority Mail one at the post office. Yes, I'm a cheap bastard.). The clerk gives me a "yeah, sure" nod. She politely hands me flat rate cardboard envelope. "If you can fit it in here, it will be $4.60."

I look at the tiny cardboard envelope in bewilderment. I look at the puffy pile of fleece, then grab the fleece, stuff it in the envelope and proceed to sit on it on the post office floor so I can flatten and compress it enough that I can close the envelope. I am angry about the arbitrary weight issues, but glad I can wrangle the fleece into the flat rate envelope. Of course, it will look like crap when it arrives at the home of the person who bought it, with no fancy tissue paper and in an envelope bursting at the seams. Oh well. She didn't pay extra for shipping. I stupidly sold her the fabric with "shipping included" in the cost. Never again.

I hand off the envelope and the clerk gives me a new address label to fill out. After I do so, I realize, "Wait, this doesn't include Delivery Confirmation, does it?" The label I had already printed out at home, now attached to the old, non-flat rate envelope, included DC, and it hadn't cost extra. Again, I'm cheap. The clerk gives me the, "jeez, what next?" look, then pulls the label off the old package, tearing it in the process. It manages to still stick to the new envelope, and I pay my $3 for the other packages. The clerk points out that I need to make sure to weigh future packages, "so your customers don't have to pay the extra cost." I nod and give a half-assed apology for being short and annoyed, then hustle the boys out, thinking "Customers! They're just some other moms like me who bought my fabric. Hmm, are they really customers? Well, the customer getting this package isn't going to be impressed either way."

I can definitely understand why the phrase "going postal" is in existence. I was going to add a picture of the Priority Mail flat rate envelope, but I have a feeling this post will already land me on a postmaster watch list as it is.