Old Kent Road Post Office

I’m surprised this FRANCHISE of the Post Office is still in business. The only reason why I KNOW it has survived is because it is in a prime & busy location.
I’m sure the vast majority of the residents nearby don’t even use this Post Office, unless they are desperate.
The post office is literally a box. It’s cramped and rundown. The people who work there seem fed up, done with life and full of hate.
The elderly Asian lady was dealing with a customer, I was next in que and the chubby man with glasses was free at his counter. He gave me a rude hand gesture as if to tell me «I’m not serving anyone, go to her». Silly old man, number 1 — I didn’t even move from where I was standing or approach his counter. Number 2– the elderly lady was still in the middle of serving a customer. I just gave him a BLANK stare and carried on waiting.
Anyway whilst enquiring about my options in sending a letter/​package to China– the chubby old man decided he now wanted to get involved with his hateful attitude. He also started shouting at the elderly lady who was serving me (he wanted her to charge me more). I didn’t give the chubby old man the satisfaction of acknowledging him or responding to him, must of p****d him off even more. I knew he had a serious behavioural and attitude problem from the get go, so as far as I was concerned I couldn’t hear or see him.
I feel sorry for the elderly women who has to work besides such a angry old man filled with so much hate.
I’m glad I DID NOT end up spending my money in this FRANCHISE.

No offensive language. I tried my best to write this review without the use of expletives. But I’ve had to Find and Replace all the swears with the word sausage.
The staff here can be sausages. They have a tendency to view customers as sausages. Patrons are interruptions to their daily schedule, which for the male staff member appears to consist of sitting on his fat sausage and eating, and for his female counterpart is coughing all over the sausaging glass and my parcels. They appear to view the office itself as cover for a driving test learning-​aid dealership, copies of which you have to peer around to get a good look at the person you’re addressing.
Every time I patronise this establishment, the gentleman behind the counter looks at me like I am a piece of sausage. Several times he has sworn blind that they do not provide the service I’m asking for, and has refused to fulfil said service until I have explained that that said service is a feature of all post offices, at which point he reluctantly does his sausaging job.
When asking for bulk amounts of jiffy-​bags or similar, I can see his beady eyes assessing me before he invents a suitably believable price.
It is sometimes necessary to go to a post office. Frankly I’d rather cut off my own sausage than frequent this one, but it’s the closest one to home.