Postal Service Employees I Have Known

1.  Norwalk, CT
The mailman was a pretty innocuous thing when I was growing up.  In the suburbs there was no mail person walking, just a mail truck that goes from mailbox to mailbox.  My brother told me that sometime around 6th grade he “hitched” a ride on the back stoop of the mailtruck and had a rather unpleasant encounter with the mailman.  But to me, it was more about the truck.  When I’m at home I still recognize the distinct sound of the truck, its brake, the sound of it circling and delivering mail to our cul-de-sac.  Who knows how long this particular mailman has been on the job, but in years of late he won’t deliver your mail if for any reason he can’t reach your box in his car.  If he has to get out, you don’t get your bills.  This also means for some unfortunate package placement.  Thanks for leaving that package of books on top of the box, where it fell off into sandy snow left by the plow.  I now know why Amazon plastic wraps everything.

2.  Great Barrington, MA (College, on-campus)
I looked once, even twice a day at both my mailbox and my intra-college correspondence cubby.   I rarely got mail, but I m.  Once, during my sophomore year, I got an unexpected Valentines Day package from my aunt that included a couple of packs of Marlboro Reds (it was my brand, and red for Valentines!)   It made my month.

3.  Housatonic, MA (College, off-campus)
Did we even have postal service?  I think I still got my mail at school,  and my roommates either did that or had PO Boxes.  Hm.  Was that a choice because of the roommate situation, or did we not have mail service at all???  Huh, I don’t think we even had a mailbox.  Who the fuck doesn’t actually have mail service?  Wait, I tore off my passenger-side mirror on a wood post in our driveway when trying to make a tight parking maneuver in icy conditions… that must have been a mailbox, right?  I have no explanation here. [Edit 07/30: I remember – it wasn’t a mailbox or a wood post, it was a fire hydrant.  No answers about mail.]

4.  Amsterdam, Netherlands.
It was a big building, on a busy street.  I remember the mailmen didn’t speak much English — a rarity in Amsterdam.  I’m not sure I ever encountered the same postman twice.  I think it was the same guy who regularly did the normal mail rounds, so I suppose it was the package delivery men who were always different.  Again, I remember getting a surprise package — this time from my mother.  My family had gone on a boat trip and she sent me some cool yarn she picked up along the way.  I still have the scarf I made with it.  Mostly I remember the post office.  Taking a ticket and waiting and waiting and waiting to pick up a package or send something only to have the pissed-that-you-can’t-conduct-your-business-in-Dutch-even-though-they-speak-English-but-are-state-employed-and-thus-feel-entitled-to-making-your-life-miserable-for-living-in-their-country-unable-to-explain-the-details-of-American-addresses-or-that-you-don’t-have-tulip-bulbs-hidden-in-the-mixedcd-you-are-just-trying-to-send-your-friend-in-Canada-in-their-native-language-which-half-of-Amsterdam’s-residents-don’t-speak-well.

But, generally the mail was sent and received quickly.  Unless it had to do with your student loans.  Then, it managed to take months.  Especially if you really needed the money.

5.  Oakland, CA
Hello sweet Asian-woman-who-barely-speaks-English.  What is worse?  Being punished by postal employees for not speaking Dutch or having someone nod at you, thinking you understand each other, only to find out said person didn’t catch a word of what you were saying?  She was probably the most consistent postwoman I ever encountered, but god forbid you are waiting on a package someone decided to post by USPS.  I sort of felt bad.  She was so nice.  But, if you had a question about why you got a key, and there was no package for you in the corresponding box… or why you got a slip when you knew there was no signature needed and it was small enough package  to be left, forget it.  But she was nice.

Although, she was totally outshined by the AMAZING UPS DUDE.  He ended up at our apartment building almost every day, and was good about buzzing.  If the package was heavy he’d even carry or dolly it up for me.  My only complaint is that lazy people in the building would buzz him in and tell him to come up to their apartment instead of going downstairs to fetch their package (and buzzing in strangers, even super cool UPS men, was not okay — we lived in a nicer area, but fuck man, people accidentally buzzed in some unwelcome… unwelcomes… I mean, it was still Oakland).  That would mean that he would come knock at the door instead of buzzing the apartment, and sometimes no one could hear the knock.  I do not blame AWESOME UPS DUDE.  Occasionally I encountered a very concerned, motherly Irish-looking FedEx woman.  Very sweet, but we rarely got things via FedEx so I was never able to form a complete opinion.

6.  Brooklyn, NY
Much like F train service on a Saturday night, the postal service here is a mixed fucking bag.  We have two different mailmen, one black and one asian, and I cannot figure out their schedule at all.  Asian dude seems to come around 11 and Black dude seems to come closer to 1.  Asian dude sucks.  I believe he is a mail-withholder.  He has the general attitude of “I’ve been working at this job for 10 years and I still can’t believe this is all life had in store for me.”  I would sympathize.  But since I think he withholds my mail, probably due to the fact that he has to open a gate to get to our mailbox, I can’t muster it.  I am much more understanding to people’s disappointment when they still get the job done.  Black maildude, on the other hand, seems to be stoked that he has this gig.  He has the swaggering attitude of “hey who thought someone would actually pay me to walk around the neighborhood and put things in boxes?”  He also is friendly, says hello, and rings the bell to notify me when he’s placed something large and conspicuous in the box.  Then there is separate, 3 o’clock USPS package postman.  He is also stoked on his job.  A big, burly, mustachioed white guy who seems to know that the secret, taking the heavier mail-load, is the key to happiness in a maildude’s life.  He brings you packages, which generally make people much happier than the bills regular mail provides.  Unlike other maildudes he needs a signature, so he is also used to dealing with people.  And gates that may or may not be a barrier between him and his customer.

No mail today.  I assume disgruntled asian maildude was working.