Is it over yet? That "Let The River Run" slop commercial for the post office sung by Carly Simon? As a 25-year postal employee, let me say I had difficulty holding down my cranberry wild rice watching that thing.
Where to start? How about the time the 84-year old guy cut me off as I was leaving the parking lot to start my route, and I hit the brakes, barely tapping his bumper. He gets out carrying a cane, hobbles over and leans down to see clearly there is no damage. He then shakes my hand, says no problem, gets in the vehicle and drives off. Fifty minutes later my supervisor confronts me on the route claiming I didn’t report an accident, violating postal policy. Evidently this guy returned, marched into the PM’s office and claimed his bumper was loose. Upshot: I get sent to Newark where 10 managers scream at me because I’m accident prone. Nine accidents including bee stings, insect bites, slips, etc. we’ll take away your truck, send you to Newark with a pushcart and mace, one threatens. Six days suspension without pay, later cut to three. And no one ever questioned the old guy about why he left the scene if it was my fault.
Or we can discuss periodic route inspections where they pick a light day to walk with you, then slam you with 42 extra houses with steps, driveways, hills, and now no one can finish the route on time; customers complain about late mail.
Maybe you’d like to hear about the machines that continually missort mail when they aren’t breaking down altogether. Machines that sort the forwards, holds, boxmail, moved-on addresses, deceased, while we have to pull all this stuff out on the road, bring it back and resort it. Millions invested here, and no one will admit defeat.
One of my favorite tricks is making a turn and having a full tray fall off a shelf, scattering letters all around the truck because the PO is too cheap to give us straps to tie across the top. Those marvelous trucks, the ones they evidently tested for traction in snow and ice in Arizona. They supply you with these wire things for the tires that break into shredded wheat after three days’ use.
They yell about safety first, then yell louder if you return late. They have you scan all sorts of packages with these nifty devices that look like Gameboys and then you have to scribble down 16 digit numbers on a separate sheet even though you’ve just scanned in those same numbers. Every street is calculated, as is your walking pace, breaks, use of phone, times walking away from the case, sneaking contraband food and coffee to said case – all this carefully monitored.
If you get hurt you must report it or you get disciplined. If you report it you get disciplined because all accidents are preventable. Forget the Koran – check out Postal regulations. Set aside about a month to read through them. The union won’t even write up a grievance – too busy attending conventions. The guy at the next case keeps moaning, the woman on the other side keeps complaining about how the clerks sort magazines. Managers get millions in bonuses while the PO will lose $2 billion in 2001, another $4 billion in 2002. Worse than anything, I don’t even have to time to read postcards anymore. You folks can help by highlighting the good parts. Let the River Run? Let the sewer back up. Fifty four more months and counting. Where’s that 1-800 Helpline number? – Joe Del Priore