There was a slip in my mailbox indicating that I had received a package. I went to the front desk in the lobby of my apartment building to pick it up.
There, I dealt with one of the building staff, a man about 75 years old.
I gave him the slip. He retrieved my package.
When I went up to my apartment, there was a UPS receipt stuck to my door showing that a package had been delivered for me today. (My building used to put those receipts in our mailboxes to save us a trip back down to the lobby, a much more tenant-friendly way to do things.)
Packages awaiting retrieval, obviously, are arranged by apartment unit—with the apartment number written and circled with a black marker—in a room next to the front desk. So, the Asshole of the Day could easily have given me both packages at once.
