Category: Uncategorized

Anyone with a time management problem should go to work in the post office immediately. I’m well into Week 2 and am now a master at nodding off to sleep for exactly 11 minutes, which gives me just enough time to get up from the only cozy chair in the break room and jog three miles back to the secret entrance to my hash* so that I can appear (and apparently working, to boot!) before my supervisor (whom I refer to as Mr. Wilson) begins shouting “John!!!”

*A configuration of wheeled mail containers ranging from roughly man-sized to XXL leviathan) adorned with color-coordinated labels that explain to someone smarter than me where this pile of mail is ultimately bound. These containers are mostly OTRs (Over the Road), which look like unpainted dumpsters, and GPs (General Purpose, see photo below).

Postal Notes 2: The things people mail to each other is flat-out nuts. Shovels? Rugs? Tires? Livestock? Bullets? Golf clubs? Barbells?

It seems Benji Doopman doesn’t have any chains available to him in the town of Unxom. No problem! His Uncle Jibber, who lives in the big city (Dumwader), has an old pair in the barn. Just get that postal fella to parcel ’em up for you.

“Damn! Whatever’s taped up in this diaper box weighs a shit-ton!”

Wow. Working in the bowels of the downtown post office is incredible and only a little hellish. My first night I worked a 12-hour shift, which is not uncommon. Half-hour for my brown bag lunch. Constant running around dodging forklifts and gigantic iron mail holders on casters. I work from 6pm to 4:30am and likely won’t get a day off before New Year’s. Note: I’m 53, and haven’t had a job that didn‘t involve a desk and chair since the mid-80s. 

This isn’t a “poor, pitiful me” post. My body is painfully adapting to the workload, and it’s taking a little less time for me to recover each day. I’m inspired by the diversity and demeanor of my coworkers, who, for the most part, are cheerful, supportive folks, who go home after 10-12 hours and take their kids to school, or go to another job. Holy. Shit. Nothing but respect from me. Don’t know if I’ll “make this a career,” but it’s been a mind-expanding experience. And Jeezus people, learn to wrap a goddamn package! I found a box of bullets that had broken open and had to gather them all up on a moving conveyer belt, while explaining to a coworker the difference between Woodland, Woodburn, and Wood Village. Postal power!