It's the POST Office

When sending standard mail in my office we generally use the postage meter. Ours is a bit finicky, prone to spitting out letters not inserted with just the right combination of firmness and gentleness. Then just to spite you for feeding it wrong the first time, it won't stamp quite right. I've stopped worrying about that - I've never seen the post office refuse to mail one of our letters because the stamped stamp was slightly off, but still, it shows the vindictive nature of the postage meter.

On special occasions, however, like event invitations, we use "real stamps" (unless we're sending bulk, but that's a topic for another time). When using real stamps, I have to visit the post office. Oh joy.

I hate the post office. I try to view it as a zen exercise, remaining calm and patient while waiting in the interminable line, but it's hard. I find it puzzling that an organization which is so generally efficient at getting my letter from point A to point B can't seem to get me stamps without visiting points A thru Z (and not in order).

Now, in my "personal life" (which all too frequently blends with "work life" into a muddled teal and orange puddle) I hate using the boring flag stamps, and that stamp snobbery (they're soooo boring) requires that I stand in line for fun stamps (like snowflakes in winter or Ella Fitzgerald in February - Black History month, you know).

I'm not so picky about work stamps, and in another situation I could have opted to use the automated postal kiosk and forgo actually communing with the postal employees, but this morning I needed to purchase 450 stamps, and there was no way I was buying that many from the automated postal kiosk. (Do you know that the word "kiosk" came to be part of the English language as a result of the Viking invasions of Britain? Yes, it's true. I learned it from Eddie Izzard. British comedy is so educational.)

So, after putting off noon-time trips to the post office for a couple of days, I thought to myself, "Clever girl, you live quite close to a post office. Just hop on over there when it opens at 8:00 AM and then off to work you'll go."

Apparently even at 8:00 AM there are people with strange queries which result in long, hushed conversations with postal employees. I don't know what these people talk about, but it takes forever! I should have camped out overnight to be first in line.

And why is it that they keep no supplies out front? Almost every request from a customer sends the employee out of sight for several minutes. "NO!" I shouted silently watching postal guy drift away (there's always just one. What's the point of a huge customer service counter if you only put one person behind it?!). "No! Don't leave! Come back! No!"

I believe there's a labyrinth back in the bowels of each post office. The postal workers are really our postal knights, battling fierce dragons that guard packages, stamps, and certified mail receipts.

I thought my need for stamps would be simple. Every time you do anything at the post office they ask if you need stamps. They must be drowning in them, right?

"I need 450 39-cent stamps, please," I said to the tiny woman who magically appeared and opened up a second register. (My god, it's a miracle! I thought.)

She nodded. Then she turned and walked away.

WAIT! WHAT?! I watched helplessly from the wrong side of the counter as she headed bravely towards the labyrinth.

How did that happen? I only wanted stamps. It's a post office. She shouldn't have to go far.

Do they laugh? Is there a secret room where they go and watch us on surveillance cameras and laugh? Do they cheer each time a person removes his/herself from the line and leaves? (and heads down the street to the nearest FedEx, I assume.)

I don't understand.

STAMPS! Just plain ordinary flag/liberty/patriotic nonsense stamps.

But then the tiny woman emerged triumphant with coils of stamps in her hand. A veritable treasure-trove, more valuable than gold doubloons. Perhaps she battled pirates, not dragons. Silly me. Why would dragons want stamps?

She counted out 4 coils of 100 stamps. 400 stamps. Good. She opened a drawer and counted out two 20-stamp sheets. 440 stamps - almost there! And then she wandered away again. However this time she stayed in sight, heading over to postal guy. "Do you have any stamps?"

Does he have any stamps?! It's a post office! I should hope so. Why don't you?! The post office just opened - well, it's been nearly half-an-hour - but still, there should be plenty of stamps. Did I unwittingly surpass some kind of stamp quota?

Luckily postal guy did have ten stamps to spare, and I finally got 450 boring liberty stamps to take to work.

Now I've stuck them on invitations, and I'm sending them back to the post office. Hopefully the postcards will fare better than I.

May the force be with you, invitations, as you battle the dark side of the postal system.