Take a letter, Maria.

The lady at the post office is out to get me. I got caught trying to illegally ship alcohol across the country one time, and suddenly I'm a menace to society. Even if I did pitch a pretty epic fit, that was weeks ago. She should be over it by now. Every time I go in there now, she's giving me stink eye like I'm some kind of criminal. I cut my hair, and she still recognizes me.  There are 20 thousand nondescript blonde-ish women in Davis, and she STILL recognizes me. I'm going to have to start paying my co-workers to go to the post office for me.