Life in Smallburg is nothing if not continually baffling. I am easily baffled. (Mr. Master-of-the-Obvious here.)
But I am most baffled Smallburg and Tinytown clerks. Our lives are controlled by clerks. Think you can just bip in and get a license renewed? Pshaw, you jest!
Need to check out your giant jug of Utz at Giganto Club? Chortle.
Take a few minutes to grab the winning Powerball ticket on your way home. Giggle.
Think you can pick up mail for a dead guy when you have a court order? Guffaw, guffaw, guffaw.
A friend of a friend is the court appointed executor for a dead guy’s estate. He knew there was mail awaiting at his Tinytown post office. When the guy croaked, they asked the postal officials to please stop delivering to his house.
But when the executor showed up to collect the mail, they refused to hand it over because… wait for it… he wasn’t part of the dead guy’s family.
Yep, the clerk refused to hand over the mail because she knew the dead guy’s family and Mr. Executor wasn’t a family member, just a very close friend. (Hello? Executor to his estate!) He showed the clerk the court document proclaiming he had the State of Kentucky’s authority to conduct all business both foreign and domestic.
But the clerk refused to hand over dead guy’s Land’s End catalogs, Bassmaster magazines, credit card applications, Cabala’s catalogs, AARP magazine, letters from:
- Salvation Army
- Waffle House
- Netflix
- DirecTV
- Life Insurance R Us
- etc. etc.
Clerks. These are the people that control our lives.
And Nancy says I need to smile more when I deal with them. Something like this work?
