A misplaced package.

I receive daily several small parcels in the post from the UK and the US, these being mainly books. I told my postman I'm happy to pick it all up regularly from the post office to save him lugging it around which is what I normally do.

Not so long ago, having collected two bundles of packages and returned home, I opened a large envelope to find a DVD about an obscure South American musician along with a few signed photographs, booklets and badges. This was clearly not destined for me and on checking the address I saw that it was from an American record company and intended for a flat two buildings down the road. I visited the address a few times but no-one was in. I also sellotaped a note to the door giving my number. I heard nothing and took to ringing the bell every time I passed.

One day someone answered the intercom with a gruff...
"Yes, I'm listening."

I was greeted with suspicion and ignorance as is so often the case in Poland. This is how the conversation went...

Me: "Hello, I have a package for you."
Him: "What package? Who are you?"
Me: "I live locally and the parcel was in amongst others that I picked up from the Post Office."
Him: "What package is this? Who are you?"
Me: "I told you, I'm a neighbour. It's a DVD from the States. I opened it accidentally."
Him: "You opened it? Why did you open it?"
Me: "Yes, I'm sorry, I receive a lot of USPS Envelopes from the States just like this."
Him: "You think it's nice to open other people's post? Why did they give you the package?"

By now I'd had enough. Another thing The Jerk did which happens to me often and I find terrribly impolite is that almost immediately he dismissed my ability to speak Polish by stating "We can speak English!" and then proceeded to stumble on in pigeon English. As if to say that his English was better than my Polish which it certainly was not. Such aggorance.

I restrained myself from telling him what a prick he was down the crackly intercom, but explained that the mistake was not mine and that I'd gone to some trouble to try and return the package. I ended with...

"Do you want the package or not?" There was a pause and then The Jerk said...
"I'll be down in a few minutes...wait there."

I gave him exactly three minutes then walked away.

A few days later one of the Norwegian Magnus's came round and, remembering that he has an extraordinary collection of music, I told him the story and gave him the DVD etc.

Eventually The Jerk tracked me down (not difficult) and left a note on my door for me to call him... some hope! My postman, a stoutly built and jolly fellow, informed me that The Jerk had been making a fuss down at the post office. If only he'd not been quite so uncivil he would have his paltry packet.

A few days afterwards, and expecting him, I opened the door to find what looked like the drummer from one of those Brit Bands of the late 1990's, but without the middle-class manners. Over-trendy glasses offset with unkempt hair and a big 1970's collar, The Jerk stood speechless as I nonchalently but firmly informed him I had better things to do than stand answering impertinent questions through cheap intercoms and that I'd put his package back in a letter box.

Magnus later told me that the DVD was pure piffle and he'd binned it.