Job's-worth
Saturday morning I went to collect some mail from the Royal Mail office. In front on me were a lady and her six year old son. Her son was there to collect a recorded delivery parcel for his birthday. The postal clerk insisted that the kid showed ID before handing over the parcel, “Driving licence, passport, bank card or savings account book?” Nop, “Utility bills?” Nop… Mother offered her ID. “No good, it’s not addressed to you.” Mother and kid walk away in disgust. .
Saturday morning I went to collect some mail from the Royal Mail office. In front on me were a lady and her six year old son. Her son was there to collect a recorded delivery parcel for his birthday. The postal clerk insisted that the kid showed ID before handing over the parcel, “Driving licence, passport, bank card or savings account book?” Nop, “Utility bills?” Nop… Mother offered her ID. “No good, it’s not addressed to you.” Mother and kid walk away in disgust. .
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