USPS Makes Everything Complicated

Since I’ve moved, I needed to fill out a change of address form. My mom told me I could do it at the post office, but I don’t know where the nearest post office is to my new place. So I decided to go on USPS’ website and find out. While on the site, I saw the following sidebar: Change of Address? USPS Makes it Easy! Click Here to Fill out Your Change-of-Address Form!”

‘Easy?’ I thought. ‘I love Easy! It’s my favorite word after ‘free!” So I clicked on the link and it led me… to a dead page. Or, an error page, to be more correct. I tried a few more times, continuing to get a page telling me that my internet service obviously sucked. Meanwhile, in other windows and other tabs, my internet was trucking along just fine. I let out an exasperated sigh and decided to call them instead. The machine on the other end told me that I’d be charged for doing it over the phone. Awesome. I hung up, figuring I’d take care of it in person the next day (today.)

I fully planned to figure out where the nearest post office was, drive over there, and settle this once and for all. But then, after a day at work, I turned onto my new street by habit. And it was raining. And humid. And I had to work on my monologue. And I JUST DIDN’T WANNA.

I kind of did, though. Mail is important. I decided to try the website once more. Admittedly, my internet can sometimes be crappy. Maybe today it would be better.

Eagle, my foot. The USPS is about as helpful and swift as a rock... at least in this case.

Eagle, my foot. The USPS is about as helpful and swift as a rock… at least in this case.

Nope. Still the same result, and after already spending too much time dealing with eBay and PayPal today, I was soooo not in the mood. I picked up my phone (which does not have a pretty cover, thanks to eBay and PayPal TOTALLY SUCKING.) The machine again informed me that I would be charged, but whatever, it’s $1.00, and, as I found out, you pretty much get charged no matter what. So I stayed on the line until I reached an agent.

We worked through my old address and then she said, “By the way, the card that you’re charging has to be linked to your old address.” This was a problem. My debit card, which is the one I was planning to use, is linked to my parents’ house, since I lived there for a good year after I got said card. And even if she asked for another card, the only other one I have is a credit card, which is also linked to my parents’ house.

But this was a bridge yet to be crossed, since she didn’t seem to care when I told her this information, prompting me for my new address. I gave it to her, all was well, and then she asked me for my card number. I supplied it for her, and a few seconds later…

“Oh, that didn’t go through.”

“So what should I do?” I asked.

“Well,” she said. “We can’t change your address unless your card matches up with your old address.”

I wanted to be a smart aleck and tell her that that WAS my old address. 1994 is pretty old. But I didn’t want to anger the woman who had power over my receiving my Netflix. Oh, and you know, my paycheques. I had already had to drive to my old apartment once to pick up a paycheque that arrived two days after my leave. And unfortunately, unlike my parents, who are still at the old (old) address, there is no one left in my old apartment to intercept my mail.

But the actual, important, big question was, how was I going to change my address when I’d already moved but did not possess a card with my (newer) old address on it? Get another card with that address on it to charge it a dollar just so I could get my mail? That seemed outrageously complicated and would take a lot more time than was logical.

I was staring into my wallet when I saw another card peeping out of the side pocket: my annoying job-related debit card, which holds my payment from my job at Big Famous University. It’s the worst thing ever; instead of direct deposit, which absolutely refuses to be set up, I get my payment on a debit card. BUT guess which address it’s registered under?!

Excited, I said to the agent, “WAIT! I have this debit card from my job. Can I try that?”

“Do you get bills from it?” she asked.


“Then it’s not going to work.”

It had to work. It was my last chance of getting my mail. “Can I try it anyway?”

She sighed, annoyed. “I guess. But it’s not going to work.”

I fed her the numbers. A silence. Then…

“Oh. That actually worked.”


Shape up, USPS. Your system is flawed.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

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    Jun 13, 2013 @ 13:43:41

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