You really have to love government employees. I mean, could there be a cushier place to work? You get to collect a paycheck and pretend you do something for a living. And the public?
I should probably catalog this under “whiny post.” I mean, when you stack this up against all the other crap going on right now, it’s pretty small potatoes. And you don’t have to read it, so don’t crab at me about blowing off a little smoke if you happen to think your postal worker is the best thing since sliced bread. Ours won’t give us the time of day, let alone our mail.
But there’s just something that really gets my goat when I hear how much some of these b*st*rds get paid to work for the government — paid for with taxpayer money — and then they turn around and act like the public is “the enemy” instead of the people for whom they’re theoretically being paid to provide the services they feel they’re too busy to provide.
When we moved to Clovis, one of the first things that kind of surprised us is that you don’t get your mail delivered to your home here. And lately our local post-person has reminded us that the old Post Office motto expired about the time Cliff Claven lost his seat on Cheers.
Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat nor gloom of night stays these Couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds. — Old Post Office Motto
It’s been a little cold and a lot rainy here lately and apparently our post-person is none other than Alfonso “Al” Royal.
Be it rain, sleet or snow, the people on my route can wait another day for their mail ’cause I’m freezing my stamps off. — Alfonso “Al” Royal’s Motto, adopted by the Clovis Post Office, Minnewawa Branch
And that’s not the only trick of his that they’ve adopted. Tonight, when I called them to complain, the phone rang without answer. I was in the car, following a postal carrier I’d unsuccessfully tried to flag down around the corner from my house. And I followed him or her about 5 or 6 miles until I lost them at the “no public vehicles beyond this point” sign over at the post office. That entire time, I listened on my cell phone to the sound of the unanswered post office phone.
Well, almost the entire time. There were the two times I had to re-dial after someone picked it up and then hung it up without so much as a “hello, I’m going to hang up on your sorry *ss now, you lousy taxpaying public vermin.”
Eventually, I got someone on the phone and explained that we’d been trying unsuccessfully to contact our post-person to let them know the lock broke off in the mailbox kiosk down the street from our house and for several days we’ve been unable retrieve the package that was left for us. On top of that, we’ve had no mail now since either Tuesday or Wednesday. Now, Thursday we understand. That was a holiday for our poor overworked postal “service” people who are so tired that when they lift the phone off the hook, it accidentally drops back on before they can say “burn in hell, you lousy non-government-employee type person!”
I’m sure (if you’re even still reading this) that you’ve already heard more than you care to hear. Suffice it to say that after someone actually appeared to be starting to help me, he put the phone down to go ask someone something and — guess what happened? — someone else came along. I heard a voice say (not to me), “Who’s holding?” just before they hung up the phone.
So I called back to try to re-explain the situation. (And at least got an apology for that hang-up.) The supervisor told me the problem was that the post-person didn’t see our note. I said, “It’s right on the front of the box.”
“Well, we don’t go to the front of the box. We go to the back,” he said.
“Really?” I asked. “How do you get to the back without passing the front? The postal truck parks right in front of the mailbox.”
“Well, but he wouldn’t have seen a sign on the mailbox as he walked by.”
“You can’t miss it — from any angle. It’s half the size of the mailbox!”
The pictures scattered throughout this post were taken after dark. Our post-person, when he comes (ours happens to be male) at all, virtually always comes before dark. In all of the pictures, you can see the sign. One is taken from across the street in the dark. Hard to see how it could be missed. (For those who really don’t have enough to do, as evidenced by the fact that you’re still reading this rant, clicking on the image will bring up a larger version.)
“Look, sir, I’m busy. We have lots more mail to pretend to deliver. You’ll have your package by next week. I’ll have to send someone out to drill the lock.”
“What if I drill the lock?”
“You’ll be arrested for tampering with federal property.”
Meanwhile, our package sits hostage inside the mailbox, behind the note that was too small to be read for three days. The Post Office says they won’t be able to get someone to try to retrieve the package until Monday.
Hopefully, it’s not paperwork for any appeals that have clocks ticking on their filing deadlines.