An entitled jerk follows me around as I deliver the mail, demanding that I confess that I'm the one who lost his package that he's looking forward to.

But despite the fact that I had nothing to do with this stupid package, this guy refused to take no for an answer, escalating things in a way that I honestly never expected.

Here's what happened. Okay, to start things out, something that I simultaneously love and hate the most about being a rural

mail carrier is that you are always alone. Well, this morning I received a call from a customer

who said he never received a package that I had delivered yesterday. So I checked the shelves,

looked up his tracking number, and saw that the package was scanned at the time I was at a stop.

I then told him that I would look for his package today.

Now, 90% of my route is compromise of CBU banks, and CBU stands for Cluster Box Unit.

So was it possible that I accidentally misread the address on his package for a similar

one in some kind of dyslexic moment? Yes, of course, I never rule out that possibility,

but I know I have dyslexia. It's

something I've dealt with since I was a grade schooler, and it's why I carefully read each

address. Maybe a minute after I arrive at his stop and halfway through the CBUs, a large black

pickup truck pulls up directly behind my vehicle. Now, being a rural mail carrier, I rarely, if ever,

see my customers face to face, but my instincts

tell me that this is the guy I spoke with on the phone earlier this morning.

Now, something to note here, as a contracted rural mail carrier, I drive my own personal vehicle

and I don't wear a uniform.

There is no way to tell from a distance that I'm a mail carrier, and there are no markings

identifying my car as a mail carrier. I just look like any other hundreds of cars on the highway.

This guy lives a mile and a half down the road from where his box is located, and there's no other

way to get to his house, and no alternate routes out from his road. Yet he pulled up right

...