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NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED

Submitted by Editor on

The last good deed I did was in 2007, until two weeks ago.

I woke up and was in a good mood. The mother-in-law was due to leave in a few hours’ time, and today was going to be an excellent one.

She had one last thing to do before she left, and for reasons I can’t quite fathom, I said I would do it for her. 

That was my first mistake.

All she wanted was a large-letter stamp to post a large letter. Why she couldn’t wait until she got home is beyond me. I offered her my last stamp and suggested she fold her letter so it was smaller, but my suggestion was rejected. 

It was a win-win situation, I thought; she would think I was doing her a good turn and this errand wouldn’t make her late for the train. I imagined the post office is the type of place that could easily delay a journey.

I escorted the mother-in-law as far as Waverley Station. Usually I’d chaperone her to the Border or at least as far as Haymarket to guarantee she’d left, but there was a storm was on its way and I wanted to be home before it hit.

When the mother-in-law had safely boarded, I decided to get the job done. 

My second mistake was going to Princes Mall.

I’d left the letter at home. That was fine, I could post it later, but I thought I’d better buy a stamp while I was near a post office. I decided to venture into Princes Mall and head to the new branch there. I rarely step inside this so-called ‘mall’ … why would I? Why would anybody? But as I was near I thought it was the best option.

I arrived and asked the sales assistant at the front door where I could buy a large-letter stamp. She directed me to the self-service machine. The Post Office is now all about self-service. I’m fine with that, but the assistant insisted on guiding me through it, which kind of defeated the object. 

Buying a stamp used to be easy, but now it’s like an interview. Despite not having the envelope with me I was asked if I wanted to get it to its destination the next day. Did I want it to go by secure delivery? Did I want it signed for? What was the value of the item? Did I need insurance? Did it contain any explosives or harmful materials? The content of the envelope was unknown to me but I JUST WANTED A STAMP! 

I informed the sales assistant that all I required was a large-letter second-class stamp (I wasn’t paying first-class prices for you-know-who). She pressed some buttons, I inserted the coins and a stamp was produced. I put it in my wallet and the job was done. 

My third mistake of the day came as I was leaving Princes Mall. My headphones were tangled up and I was unable to untangle them in time before being accosted by the Talk Talk Broadband salesmen who were situated near the exit. Usually, with my headphones in, I would just pretend I couldn’t hear them and walk on by.  But no such luck today.

‘Who provides you with your broadband and home phone?’ the salesman asked. After a few minutes I managed to fob them off with some ridiculous excuse and was on my merry way.

My fourth mistake was trying to cross Princes Street in the middle of the day. I waited at the beeper for a long time, which gave me plenty of time to ponder. I thought about how Princes Street used to look and was reminded of an old photograph I had once seen of it. It used to be idyllic. There was no Princes Mall, just an attractive roof garden, used as a multi-purpose market and exhibition space. There were no traffic lights and no crossings (a horse and cart would have been easy to dart around).

There were no Broadband salesman back then and no tangled headphones, either. Should I be living in the late 1800s? 

After ten minutes, the man eventually turned green and I was able to continue my journey. The weather was pretty wild, it was freezing, the wind had picked up and snow was on its way so I was glad to be homeward bound. 

The fifth mistake happened when I got home and took the stamp out of my wallet. The damn machine, which had been operated by a member of staff, had given me a normal first-class stamp instead of large-letter second-class one.

My day was in ruins. Who was to blame? Princes Mall? The Post Office? The headphones? Talk Talk? The Council’s traffic department? You-know-who? 

I swore that that would be the last good deed I would ever do. Then the phone rang. It was Mrs LHTD. She told me that the mother-in-law was stranded at Haymarket. Due to the storm, all trains had been cancelled until further notice.

‘It looks like she’ll be staying with us for a bit longer,’ she said. ‘Can you go and collect her?’

I was about to perform my second good deed in seven-and-a-half years, two minutes after I’d sworn I would never do one again.

‘Yes,’ I replied glumly. ‘I need to go back to the post office, anyway.’

What could possibly go wrong this time? 


[BLACK-AND-WHITE IMAGE: All Rights Reserved D McLean at Lost Edinburgh, to whom many thanks.]