The Jerk Store Never Runs Out: A Christmas Play in One Act
The Setting: Early afternoon. The local Post Office.
The Players: YUPPIE WOMAN. POSTAL CLERK DUDE. HOBGOBLIN. Assorted postal customers.
The line is shorter than it was yesterday, when Hobgoblin had to mail a Christmas package to his mother in California. Instead of pushing out the doors the main reception area and into the P.O. box area, it ends at the door threshold. All three customer service windows are open, and it seems as if everyone has two or three packages to send.
HOBGOBLIN [interior monologue]: Wow, that dude’s hair looks just like Nigel Tufnel’s. Oh man! If you’re going to wear jeans without a belt and no underwear, DO NOT BEND OVER! Seriously, dude. I need about a gallon of eye bleach now. Wait, what’s this?
[He overhears a conversation at one of the customer service windows. It seems the YUPPIE WOMAN is having some sort of altercation with POSTAL CLERK DUDE. Her voice has a sharp edge to it that cuts through other conversations, although it is not especially loud.]
POSTAL CLERK DUDE: Would you like any insura–
YUPPIE WOMAN: I do not want to pay anything extra.
PCD: Would you like delivery confir–
YW: I do not want to pay anything extra.
PCD: OK, next package. This will be $39.17 guaranteed overnight, or $7.50 First Class Priority.
YW: How long will that take?
PCD: It’s a two to three day average.
YW: Can you guarantee it will arrive in three days?
PCD: No, ma’am, I’m sorry. We can’t guarantee anything but Overnight mail. It’s a two to three day average.
YW: So it will get there in three days?
PCD: Well, that’s an average. It usually takes two or three days.
YW: So you can’t tell me when it will get there?
PCD: No, ma’am, but like I said, it’s a two to three day average.
YW [her voices rises slightly]: That’s no way to run things. How about if you scheduled me to come to your house and I said it would be sometime during the next week? You couldn’t take the whole week off to wait for me to get there, now could you? That’s just not acceptable. Will it definitely be there in three days?
PCD: Two to three days is the average time. We can’t guarantee the delivery time unless you ship it overnight, for the extra fee–
YW: I do not want to pay anything extra.
PCD: OK, then. Seven-fifty. [He slaps several “Priority Mail” stickers on the package, and prints out the price stamp.]
[YW continues to rant about bad service and guarantees and how this is no way to run a business.]
[PCD takes the package back to the package chute and dumps it in.]
HOB [Interior monologue]: Good job, Yuppie Woman. I hope you didn’t have anything fragile in there, because it’s not going to make it.
PCD: OK, this next package, do you want–
YW: I do not want to pay anything extra.
PCD: OK, that’s $18.75 over–
YW: I do not want to pay anything extra.
PCD: –night, and $4.50 Priority, with two to three day delivery.
YW: Can you guarantee it will be there in three days?
PCD [He is clearly restraining an unfriendly smile.]: The two to three days is average, ma’am.
[The dialogue continues as above, with YW and PCD discussing the relative merits of guaranteed delivery versus a two to three day average. Finally they finish the transaction as YW hands over her credit card.]
PCD: Credit or debit?
YW: Credit. [She takes the slip.] Where do I sign?
PCD: Right there at the bottom.
YW: At the bottom? Where? I don’t see–
PCD: Actually ma’am, it doesn’t matter. They don’t care, just as long as there’s a signature. Sign it wherever you want. [He ties heroically to suppress a sigh.]
YW: Your pen doesn’t work! [PCD silently hands her a new pen. She signs and hands the slip back.]
PCD: Thank you. Have a wonderful day. [There seems to be the slightly sarcastic emphasis on “wonderful.”]
[It is now HOB’s turn. He walks to the window and catches PCD’s eye and smiles widely. They share a “what a jerk” look. They quickly complete HOB’s transaction.]
PCD: Thank you, and have a great day. [He emphasizes “great.”]
HOB: Thanks–you too. [They catch each others’ eyes again and suppress a laugh.]
[HOB walks to the door, shaking his head and smiling broadly. As he crosses the street, he is nearly hit by a speeding SUV, and he has to leap backwards to avoid the water and slush sprayed up by its tires. He notices YW driving. This makes him laugh even harder.]
HOB [waving at the departing SUV]: Merry Christmas!