Package

Package

Package 150 150 Nadia Poulou

I was expecting a package, so when the bell of the downstairs entrance rang, I was quick to open it. I was waiting behind the entrance door of our third-floor Munich flat and it took only a short while before I heard a voice and a loud bang on it. I opened it.

The postman, a young man of around 25 was standing there but instead of handing me over the package he was carrying, he shouted loudly and with visible anger to me.

“You are wasting my time, don’t you understand? When I ring downstairs, you have to wait for me with your door open and not have me looking for and knocking on your door.” He afterwards repeated his message one more time with different words but with the same loud voice.

“I think you lose more time now telling me these things, than if you just give me this package and leave” I told him.

He handed over the package, I signed. But he did not cease shouting:

“Next time, you wait here with the door open when you have a package delivered and not waste people’s time.”

“If it makes you feel better, then we do it like this from now on”, I ensured him and closed the door before he turned to walk away.

Obviously, a German postman never rings twice, as I just found out.

Nadia Poulou

Digging data, assembling content, translating cultures

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