I went to our local post office this morning - it was open on a Saturday morning because we're rural, and sometimes folks can only get to the P.O. on Saturday.
The lady behind the counter was not the usual person, and as soon as she greeted me, in perfect English, she apologized for the fact that she might not figure out the various options for mailing my parcel as quickly as the regular post mistress would. Well, I could wait an extra minute or two for such an honest admission!
Eventually we got it all worked out, and then she went on a hunt for the book in which I could sign that my parcel was going out of province and then I wouldn't have to pay PST! Splendid idea! Most of my parcels go out of province, and I can't remember ever having this option before. Book found, she began to fill in the details. I could tell she was struggling about something, and finally she looked up at me, genuinely apologetic, and said, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask your name."
Where else but in the country would post office employees think it their duty to know everyone by name? And as it turned out, she did know my first name - it was the family name that she was struggling with! (probably confused between Ross and Aird...or maybe even Beck) And we have been in this community all of 13 months! Wow! We say country folks are friendly, and they care about their neighbours, and apparently it starts right from the Post Office!
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