I love the Post Office. Anybody can tell you that.
I wouldn’t bash ’em for the world, especially after the local PM treated me so well over a claim I had today. But you know that question the Retail Sales Assistants have to ask you about “is there anything liquid, flammable, potentially dangerous in that package”?
Well, as you have probably noticed, the flu Us Guys from Iowa wish was always only called H1N1 has changed life at the Post Office and other places (hospitals come to mind) because now they have little bottles of hand sanitizers there that you can use to help combat the spread of germs.
The Purell at Storm Lake is 63% alcohol, and I assume it’s right around that strength almost anywhere. Well, guess what? ANYTHING 63% alcohol is dangerous and even probably fatal in my hands, or more specifically down my throat. Since 1995 I have subscribed to a philosophy that using (ingesting) alcohol is fatal to me.
I’m probably not going to grab the bottle of Purell at the PO or anywhere else and dart desperately out the door to snort it, as I have other solutions, and anyway, it’d be much easier and less Federally indictable to just dodge around the corner to any other store and just snag some of the stuff which was brewed up for actually drinking. It’s cheap as far as I recall, and the economic issue wasn’t really the first one when I first started subscribing to that fatal stuff.
Nontheless, standing right next to that little bottle, that’s a funny question: is there something liquid or dangerous in the box I’m mailing while there’s something both liquid and dangerous on the counter right next to me.
I’m sure somebody’s working on that one. Or if they’re not, I hope somebody’s at least making sure Purell costs more than beer or Listerine.
