Letters from North America
by Peary Perry
It’s
time for my annual
bashing of the United
States Postal Service. I
suppose my frustration
just builds over
something like a fifty
two week period and
seems to be relieved
once I write this yearly
message.
Before I get started,
please believe me when I
say that I truthfully
believe there are
thousands upon thousands
of good, hard working
postal employees out
there doing their jobs
and trying as hard as
they can. I am not
directing this column
towards you, so please
don’t get offended and
write to me. I am
certain that out of the
thousands upon thousands
of you out there, some
of you are really trying
to make it easier on
those of us who have to
use the mail service.
My problem is that I
can’t seem to find a
station that really
tries. The one closest
to my house seems to be
mired in some form of
slow motion or freeze
frame mentality. I’m not
certain all of them are
breathing. These folks
act like zombies or
creatures from the night
of the living dead. If
they moved any slower,
I’m afraid they might
take root and stand in
one place for years to
come. In fact, now that
I think about it, that
may be why some of them
aren’t moving now. I
might check this out.
Who should I call the
fire department or the
state forestry service?
I’ll have to think about
this one.
Take last week, the post
office was closed on
Memorial Day, so it was
packed with people on
Tuesday trying to get
things done. When I
arrived the line was out
the door and the little
indicator board said
they were serving
customer #24, the next
ticket (mine) was #76. I
decided to use the
automatic scales and
print my own postage; I
can do this and not mess
with having to stand in
a line for an hour or
so.
Only problem? The
self-serve scales and
printing machine are
broke…big “OUT OF ORDER”
sign is posted on top of
it. So, I go to the
machine to buy some
stamps since I know what
the amount should be for
each envelope.
Nope, not going to work
there either, another
big sign…. “OUT OF
ORDER” stuck on the
glass. One of the actual
moving postal employees
comes by as I am
standing there trying to
decide what to do next.
One of the people in
line stops this guy and
asks him why the stamp
machine is out of order.
He replies, and I am not
making this up… “It’s
too full of change, it
can’t take any more
money.” And then he
scurries off to some
other part of the post
office.
Now, I am a reasonable
person who has been in
business for a number of
years…to me, and maybe
it’s just me, it would
make sense to take the
excess money OUT of the
machine so that
customers could put more
money INTO the machines.
But then again what do I
know; I don’t work for
the government. Besides
this would create a for
profit mentality, which
I don’t think is a
consideration for this
station.
I have two options, one
is to stand in line like
the rest of the lemmings
and hope for the best
and that I can get to
the counter before lunch
time since this station
reduces their available
counter people in half
during the time most
people come in for post
office problems during
their lunch break. The
other option is to go to
another station and hope
they are a little better
organized.
Which is what I did. The
closest station is about
five miles away, no
lines, no broken
machinery, in and out in
three minutes…piece of
cake. This is a great
place to go when I need
something sent by the
postal service.
Now that I have that out
of my system, I only
have one more complaint.
When I mailed my
letters, I put a stamp
on them that had no
printed amount….after a
few days it dawned on me
that the postage had
just been increased, but
since the stamps I had
been using had no
amounts, I wasn’t sure
if they were the old
ones or the new ones. So
I tried calling the post
office to find out.
If you ever are in need
of some stress and
frustration, trust
me…just try calling the
United States Postal
Service and talking to a
real, live human being.
I think you could get
through to the White
House easier than this.
After forty five minutes
of voice mail run
around, I saw our postal
carrier coming down the
street. I flagged him
down and showed him the
stamps I had been using.
Sure enough, they were
the wrong kind. Now I
suppose all of my bills
will be coming back to
me or somewhere, but not
to where I sent them.
That makes me happy….not
really.
Which forces me to get
back in the car and
drive back to the post
office to get the
correct ones…some days
are better if you stay
in bed.
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