I just sent off Jacki's birthday present at the local PO. It has always been staffed by the older age bracket of postal clerk – the youngest is over 55 and seems… grim. Next door to the PO is Hobart's largest elder care facility.
I formed a 1-man queue behind a nice old gentleman who was withdrawing $500. As I waited I heard the familiar skipping snare sound at the start of Blister In The Sun by the Violent Femmes on the radio.
When I'm out walking I strut my stuff
And I'm so strung out
I'm high as a kite I just might stop to check you out…
OK now you'll need your pin number.
Ah, oh that might, ah, that might be a stretch…
…body and beats, I stain my sheets I don't even know why…
Now it should have four numbers, you have only put in three.
Aaah - ooh, I, ah…
…my girlfriend, she's at the end,
She is starting to cry
No, that's not it is it. OK, you've got another card?
I do, I… here it is
Let me go ooooooooon like
I blister in the sun
Well do you know the number? This one needs a PIN number too.
Let me go ooooooon
Big hands, I know you're the one…
* * * *
I stuck on my nine stamps. This was all still going on as I left. Good luck sir and well done to the grim postal clerk for holding it together and being respectful.
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