Tuesday, March 4, 2014

La raccomandata

The thing about living abroad is that even the most everyday things can seem like a bit of an adventure. Such like going to pick up a recorded delivery letter - a raccomandata - from the post office.

It's very rare that I get a racommandata in the post - luckily! I don't have a car, motorbike, scooter, or anything else that can be fined; and everything else comes with the normal post (if it arrives at all). Yesterday when I came home from work I found a notice from the postman advising that he'd tried to deliver a raccomandata, and as I wasn't home when he called I'd now have to go and pick it up from the post office. The signed-for post isn't kept at what might be your nearest post office - which is a shame as I've got one just down my street - but at a special office dedicated to collecting letters and parcels, as well as a couple of other services. Luckily for me it's about 1km away from my house, so I didn't have far to walk. The stamp on the notice gave the address and opening times, and this morning I decided to get up bright and early (and full of cold) to go and pick up my letter before going to work.

I arrived about 10 minutes before the office was due to open, and to my surprise I found only one signore waiting outside. Unsurprisingly however, was how it opened a few minutes late. At the normal post office and at this one there's a machine that you have to use to get a number for the service you want. I was worried when I saw that the machine here wasn't working - Italians aren't exactly known for their queuing skills!

The last time I went to pick up a raccomandata a full-blown argument erupted between someone who had been waiting for too long and an employee, so I was expecting today to be a long process. But I was wrong! It was all calm and so quick! I picked up my letter, went home, and even had time to have a brioche and another cup of coffee before going to work. It's nice to experience some efficiency for once!

2 comments:

Welshcakes Limoncello said...

I hate it when those come - I never seem to be in!

Anonymous said...

it was a lucky day. Usually the Ufficio Postale is a den of iniquity where every blasphemous bad thing could happen