Last night it was me in NYC. I kept going to ATMs to get cash. But the increment was always $185. Remember the days when ATMs did (or could) dispense in units of 5? Maybe you're all too young.
So at one point I stick in the bank card and punch in $185 and the machine opens up and dumps a huge roll of $0.39 stamps into my hands and then closes back up. Ruckiry (not Jon's boss), I snagged the bank receipt. And yes, this morning I did the math and $0.39 doesn't even go into $185 evenly - so either I got a deal or the USPS was ripping me off!
A nice looking Nordic man noticed my predicament and told me where the nearest post office was. I immediately went over there and cut in front of everyone in line. The woman at the front of the line, while looking haggard, was pretty nice about me cutting in front of her.
I guess this is how I knew it was a dream. Who the fuck is ever nice at the post office - customers or workers?