I can’t help but get surprised by all these stories about the Post.
I work in an online store, every week we send up to 30 packages in Russia. The label was only once when the document to the shipment was entered the wrong address, that is, it is purely our fault. (We wrote a statement, the package was intercepted, less than two weeks - and it returned to us.)
And, of course, shipments are slowly reaching Kamchatka. But from St. Petersburg in its course there is not a day or two to get there, so it is not surprising.
And you know, no one has ever said that he has received an unopened package or hasn’t come at all. And to me, the parcel from Pyatigorsk went less than two weeks, arrived in perfect condition, and the employee of the mail, a tired young woman, handed it to me, although I flew under the closure and delayed it for more than five minutes.

And the employee of the department in Alexander Nevsky Square wanted to buy chocolate. The boy is not 25 years old. Every second shocks the fist and thumbs, say, why are you not accepting ordered letters? And every time the guy calmly answers that their department has no such opportunity. He never raised his voice, he never cried, he was always polite, though he was rotating like a protein in a wheel, not work, but hell.

And how can I believe that everywhere is shrinking and rubbing?