The United States Postal Service, the “Post Office,” is a government corporation which handles millions of pieces of mail everyday. My mail is very important to me but, to some of their employees, it isn’t.
I live in the country, way off the road – far, far away from my mailbox, apparently in another dimension and galaxy. My previous mail carrier did not like to deliver packages or certified mail to my house. Evidently it was too far from the road. Guess she just didn’t like to take the time from her busy schedule. I would be home and decide to check my mail. So off I would go in the golf cart to get the mail. The moment I opened the mailbox there, sitting like a rattlesnake ready to strike, would be one of those yellow slips of paper which informed me that she had tried to deliver a package (usually one I needed immediately) and no one was home. I would stand there, reading the slip with incredulous disbelief. I WAS home – no one rang the doorbell! The slip also said I could pick the package up the NEXT day at the Post Office after three o’clock (it had been sent overnight – what was their hurry?)
I usually stood there, in the middle of the road, contemplating my options (which, if truth be told, were zilch). One option was always jumping into the golf cart and going in search of her. Thoughts of confronting the woman with the yellow slip of paper, waving it in her face and saying I was home would run through my head. The only thing that usually stopped me was the fact that the batteries in the golf cart probably wouldn’t make it that far. I do own a car; it’s just when you’re angry you don’t think clearly or at all. Frustrated and with no alternative, I would collect my mail and go home. The next day at the post office, I would complain bitterly, to no avail. Nothing ever changed.
One day, ta da, I came up with a PLAN. I would lay in wait for her! My insidious plan would go into effect if I were expecting a delivery that day. I would be outside, doing something obscure like looking for a four-leaf clover, surreptitiously watching. Then, when I saw her pull up to the neighbor’s mailbox, I would leap into the Gator (a faster mode of transportation) and meet her at the mailbox! It was brilliant and sly, utterly foolproof. Except…I was always the fool and she would thwart me time and time again. The woman would fly by, barely stopping long enough to throw the mail in the box and speed off. I would make it to the mailbox just as a cloud of dust billowed across the road. Yes, I ate her dust. There, sitting in the box would be that yellow piece of paper…Arghh!!!
It became a game that I usually lost. I tried all sorts of ways to catch her, including hiding in the bushes, but nothing worked. If any of you have seen “Funny Farm” with Chevy Chase you can understand what I was up against. In the movie, Chevy had a mailman who would throw the mail out and drive off, maniacally laughing. I saw myself as Chevy. This continued for a few years, I never gave up trying to catch her – I’m not made to quit. But evidently she was – she resigned one day. Probably took a better job like delivering Meals on Wheels – throwing food at the elderly. Much more satisfying than frustrating a middle-aged house frau.
My new mail lady is an improvement. She actually comes down the driveway and sits there blowing her horn for me to come get my package. Hey, it’s an improvement! I have since moved on – there are other battles to be waged, say with the cable company…
Have you every had an ongoing crusade with a company or government agency? How did that work for you? Did you win? Or are you like me - a loser?
Cheryl - the intrepid...