I walked in there this morning to make some copies and check my P.O. box. As I’m heading to the copy machinhe, this older guy (and when I say “older” I mean, late 60’s to early 70’s, old enough to be my grandfather) comes out from the post office line area and says, “Hey slim, come help me with this!”

Is he talking to me? I walked over to the copy machine and he plops this huge box on the counter next to me and starts talking - almost manic like - about how the post office wouldn’t take the box as is and said he needed to tape it up better and he doesn’t know why he bothers since his grandkids don’t talk to him anyway and his daughter moved to Sarasota and he doesn’t like Sarasota but he needs to send this box to them and it’s too big for him to tape by himself and “Here slim, help me!”

So what could I do, but help him? In a way, he reminded me a bit of my grandfather. So here we are - at the post office, taping this huge box up. (And the box has seen better days). We wrap it up and he asks, “So, Slim - are you married?”

“Umm…yes?” I replied.

“Aww, that’s too bad Slim, I’ve got two tickets for the Starship Yacht - nice little boat ride. I was going to take my lady friend but we broke up.” Seeing that the box was 99% ready to go I wished him good luck and made a hasty exit.

It’s not every day a girl gets hit on by someone old enough to be her grandfather!