You trashed me to my face for two days. Your $215 coat from Nordstrom was reported delivered and yet had gone missing. (Read: Likely stolen from the doorstep where it was probably left.) It came to light during the second day of you berating me that your coat had been (mis)delivered by a private organization—not by the US Postal Service, not by me. Postal workers take a hand-over-heart oath to protect and properly deliver the mail. You've been my postal customer for nearly two years. I've never fucked up like this. I won't take this kind of misguided abuse. It is, was actually, your privilege to have packages hand-delivered to you. Until you got unnecessarily nasty to my face. You can hereafter pick up your packages at the post office.

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