Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Mr. Postman, look and see....

The mailman saga continues at our house. Here are a few items of interest as of late.

Recently, I actually saw our mailman delivering mail. My heart welled up inside me at seeing him driving down our street, depositing mail into the boxes. But then as I looked closer, I realized that this mailman, who drives a maroon Dodge Hemi something-or-other, was in a deep conversation on his cell phone. So picture this: Giant maroon vehicle, guy sitting on the wrong side of the car, steering with left hand, right arm hanging out the window with mail, cell phone propped on the right shoulder, yakking away. And that’s not the scary part. The worst part is that he was ever so slowly navigating his way around the cars parked in the street (summer babysitters, etc.) while doing all of this. Dude, get a hands-free set. I’m pretty sure the USPS would frown on a mail carrier having a long, chatty conversation while delivering the mail, but at least keep up appearances with an earpiece or something.

Last week, Husband was outside with my Hot Little Brother when our illustrious mailman came down the street. He seemed to be in a hurry this day, because instead of trying to navigate around HLB’s truck parked in the street in front of our house, he just skipped us altogether. As he stopped at Razorback Fan’s house to deposit his mail, Husband waved, yelled, and jogged toward the mailman in an effort to uh, assist him with his duties of mail delivery. Apparently the mailman is oblivious to anything going on around him, because he completely ignored Husband and continued on down the street. I suppose he’s sort of a cross between Newman and the Soup Nazi…have to deliver the mail sometimes in order for people to not complain too much, but then there’s the “No Mail for You!” attitude that kicks in every now and then.

Then there’s the part where we get other people’s mail. Ah yes, another installment of, “Whose Mail Is This?” (Gameshow music begins)

“Our contestant today…Husband of Superchikk, come on down! What do we have for him today, Johnny?”

“Well, how about two, count ‘em, two issues of a magazine subscription! And they’re exactly the same! Keep one in the living room and one in…wherever else you like to keep it. No need to fight with the wife over it because you’ve got two!" (Gameshow music fades)

Never mind the poor guy who’s anxiously awaiting the latest issue of his favorite magazine; He can depend on the kindness of strangers to make sure he gets his cherished monthly prize. Of course we put it back in the mailbox, and the mailman did pick it up. Hopefully the poor guy waiting on his magazine subscription that someone paid for actually gets it.

The mail amazes me at this point. Why even send a package through the USPS anymore? The competitor is about the same price and you get this neat thing called delivery confirmation and you can have it delivered by 10am and receive an email with the signer’s name. These people can lose their job if you package gets lost, whereas the government-run mail system just shrugs and says, “Sorry.” Don’t get me wrong – I have nothing against the USPS. They served me quite well when I was 13 and had no way to communicate with my best friend but through writing 8 page letters (front and back, of course), stuffing it into an envelope, and licking a stamp. They also quite efficiently bring most of my bills, although a few of those have been lost in the mail as well (that was a previous post). Ooh, and don’t forget the junkmail that never escapes my mailbox or gets lost somehow. That’s right – every Wednesday I can guarantee that 75% if not 100% of my mail goes straight to the trash can (minus the pizza coupons). But with the ever-growing online bill paying, the customizable (accountable) package delivery people, even electronic birthday cards, is the postal service becoming like the VCR? More archaic and obsolete as time passes…but will probably never actually be gone.

Oh well. I’ll just keep hoping that the mailman doesn’t eventually run over someone’s car…or better yet my mailbox while he’s deep into his phone conversations. And I’ll keep on hoping that he actually delivers my mail on a regular basis. I think I’m going to start calling him Newman. It’s nothing personal - just can’t resist. Pin It

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