I am convinced that waiting in line at the post office is a form of modern torture. It's silent except for maybe the wail of a baby. People are shuffling forward at a snail's pace. The damn phone won't stop ringing (apparently, it's not in their budget to have an answering machine because the phone must have rang 30 times). The walls are gray and the room is small. The tone is somber. The guy behind me belches twice and coughs into my hair. He's standing so close I can smell the smoke off his clothing. Everyone is looking around helplessly while the one employee rings people up. A girl looks through the array of boxes to figure out which one she needs to use to ship her order in. You'd like to make conversation with the person in front of you but it seems she is just as annoyed as you are.
I am only there to buy some stamps for my workplace, but still those 10 minutes felt like a hour of hell, waiting in line to be served prison food.