Monday, February 19, 2007
I didn't work too much when I was in college. My first summer in Massillon after my freshman year I got a job working for the city park department. There were probably five of us on a crew and they assigned some crazy guy to oversee us. The guy was nuts, a 15 year old trapped in a fifty year old's body. It was fun though.
The following year I got a job with the U.S. Post Office as a casual carrier. I think it paid five dollars an hour and we didn't have to wear a uniform. There were probably eight of us college kids working there for the summer and I thought it was a great job. The bosses wouldn't let us sort the mail other than large packages. We essentially showed up, occasionally unloaded some trucks and got in our trucks and went out on a route. We filled in for carriers taking vacation so we would often have different routes every day. My favorite route was up around 12th Street because all the mailboxes were on the street and you didn't have to get out of the truck. I didn't mind walking but some days that mailbag would get heavy. Don't get me started on catalog week, where you would have to give everyone a department store catalog. Those were brutal days.
I thought I was the best casual carrier we had. It was confirmed one night when I got a call to go to Canton to fill in for a week for a carrier. I was going to the show, called up to the big time. No more just picking up my mail, I was going to sort it, box it and load it into my truck. I was going to have my own route for a week. It was great and then I was sent back to the minor leagues after my week of glory.
I saw some interesting things delivering mail. Naked lady one day in her house. I never had to spray a dog but I came close. Strange people wanting their social security checks and yelling at me when I didn't have them. I saw some dirty, messy houses. When you are a mail carrier, you are an unintentional intruder on people's lives.
Waking up early after getting home at 2:30 a.m. to deliver mail is no fun. There's nothing worse than looking at that huge pile of mail in the morning when you have a searing headache. It looks like you'll never be done. And its a great feeling when you get to that last clump of mail in that last tray and you're heading back to the office to stand around the time clock waiting to punch out.
I understand why postal workers can go crazy and shoot up the post office. The government gave preferential treatment to Vietnam vets. But more importantly, as Newman once said on Seinfeld, "...the mail never stops. It just keeps coming and coming and coming, there's never a let-up. It's relentless. Every day it piles up more and more and more! And you gotta get it out, but the more you get it out the more it keeps coming in. And then the bar code reader breaks and it's Publisher's Clearing House day!"
The following year I got a job with the U.S. Post Office as a casual carrier. I think it paid five dollars an hour and we didn't have to wear a uniform. There were probably eight of us college kids working there for the summer and I thought it was a great job. The bosses wouldn't let us sort the mail other than large packages. We essentially showed up, occasionally unloaded some trucks and got in our trucks and went out on a route. We filled in for carriers taking vacation so we would often have different routes every day. My favorite route was up around 12th Street because all the mailboxes were on the street and you didn't have to get out of the truck. I didn't mind walking but some days that mailbag would get heavy. Don't get me started on catalog week, where you would have to give everyone a department store catalog. Those were brutal days.
I thought I was the best casual carrier we had. It was confirmed one night when I got a call to go to Canton to fill in for a week for a carrier. I was going to the show, called up to the big time. No more just picking up my mail, I was going to sort it, box it and load it into my truck. I was going to have my own route for a week. It was great and then I was sent back to the minor leagues after my week of glory.
I saw some interesting things delivering mail. Naked lady one day in her house. I never had to spray a dog but I came close. Strange people wanting their social security checks and yelling at me when I didn't have them. I saw some dirty, messy houses. When you are a mail carrier, you are an unintentional intruder on people's lives.
Waking up early after getting home at 2:30 a.m. to deliver mail is no fun. There's nothing worse than looking at that huge pile of mail in the morning when you have a searing headache. It looks like you'll never be done. And its a great feeling when you get to that last clump of mail in that last tray and you're heading back to the office to stand around the time clock waiting to punch out.
I understand why postal workers can go crazy and shoot up the post office. The government gave preferential treatment to Vietnam vets. But more importantly, as Newman once said on Seinfeld, "...the mail never stops. It just keeps coming and coming and coming, there's never a let-up. It's relentless. Every day it piles up more and more and more! And you gotta get it out, but the more you get it out the more it keeps coming in. And then the bar code reader breaks and it's Publisher's Clearing House day!"
