I Love the Post Office

I think it might be a genetic predisposition. I don't believe my grandmother ever put a letter in a mailbox. She always went to the post office. That might indicate to you a feeling different from love, but to me it showed veneration for the building and the people inside.

And indeed, everywhere I go, I have good post office experiences. When I went to India for 3 months some years ago, one of the highlights of my day was my trip to the post office to mail letters and practice my Hindi with the postmaster...never mind that he spoke Punjabi. We became fast friends.

When Durf and I moved to CO and the county changed our address twice, the post office decided that as long that as the mail had Durf's or my name on it, their people would deliver it to our house. They didn't need any stinking address.

And when we moved to NY for 6 months, I wanted the CO P.O. to forward our mail so that we didn't have to change our address with the doltish companies that still send us paper bills. (AT&T still sends bills to Kelly Beth Court. I know you are wondering when Durf and Twila ever lived on Kelly Beth Court. So are we.) The CO post office has dutifully and efficiently forwarded our mail lo, these 6 months.

New York post offices are a different beast altogether. During my first trip to mail a package, I learned that SOP is to stick the package in this bomb-proof (?) area next to the clerk. You slide a door up on your side, push the package in, and slide your door back down. Only then does the clerk open his side and take the package out.

That first time, I failed to put my door down, not having totally worked out the procedure. After a gentle reminder, I reached over and gave the door some downward momentum. Little did I know it was on ball bearings or something and it slammed down so loudly that everyone in the place ducked for cover. I smiled sheepishly at the clerk and said, "Geez, I guess you need to fix that door," whereupon he said, "I don't know, you're the first person who's ever done that."

But then he smiled in a "bygones" kind of way and asked me how many dozen stamps I'd like to buy.

Where else can you have great experiences like that if not in the post office?