PUH-leeeze, Mr. Postman

 

You guys, I got in a fight with our mailman. I didn't throw punches or anything. I didn't even really raise my voice. Actually, the whole fight happened inside my head. The dumb mailman doesn't even know about it.

Albert and I are in the middle of a pretty big remodel of this house that we’ve lived in for almost 20 years. Our driveway and street are often lined with trucks and trailers while the construction crowd traipses in and out of our home causing our dogs bark their little heads off no matter how many times I remind them that these are our friends, not robbers.

The pups aren’t the only ones losing their fricken minds. Our mail carrier also came by to scold me last week. Most of the folks working on our house have been really good about not blocking the mailbox, but our street is really narrow and some of these guys have long trailers, so options are limited.

Mail Guy knocked on my door one afternoon holding a stack of letters and junk. He told me that he noticed that there have been lots of vehicles parked along the street in front of our house recently. Brilliant observation.

Yeah, we’re remodeling.

He went on to inform me that some of those vehicles have blocked the mailbox so that he couldn’t deliver the mail.

I peeked outside and asked, “Is the box blocked right now?” I wanted to be clear that we had the same understanding of this English word “blocked,” since there was a car parked near the mailbox at that moment that did not seem to me to be in front of the mailbox.

He said no, it’s not blocked right now.

So let me get this straight. Do you mean to tell me that you can park your truck, walk down my driveway to knock on my door, and lecture me with the mail in your hands when the mailbox is NOT blocked. But you aren’t willing to get out of your truck and drop that same mail into my mailbox when there happens to be someone parked near the front of it?

Temporarily?

Since it’s a safe assumption that we’re not going to be remodeling forever and ever since we do not live in the Winchester Mystery House.

Plus that’s not the kind of RAIN we get here in Oregon. Even though we have a lot of trees, money doesn’t seem to grow on any of them. We're going to run out of cash at some point. (Or last month.)

He went on to tell me that he would do me the "favor" of holding my mail for a day or two if this happens again, but if it happens for more than three days in a row, I have the opportunity to place a “hold” request at the post office.

This guy wasn’t rude but he really got to me. I was confused and irritated while he was talking. Then I got angry after he left. But then META ANGER set in over the weeks that followed.

Meta Anger: the anger I feel about my anger. Why was I letting this guy piss me off SO much? I hate feeling angry. I judged him for being lazy, but he was not too lazy to interrupt my afternoon to admonish me apparently.

And who does this turkey think he is? Certainly not Mr. McFeely, I'll tell you that! I literally pay his salary. He is a civil servant. He is supposed to serve me, not annoy me.

I have little to no control over who parks in front of my mailbox. I have zero to no control over whether he decides to deliver my mail. I felt like I was getting in trouble. BY THE MAIL CARRIER.

What I’ve learned over the years is that all anger stems from fear. And what I’ve learned over the past few months is that I am unconsciously yet viscerally scared of getting in trouble. Hypervigilant about doing things right and following rules, even to the detriment of the overall well-being of myself and my loved ones. And that has nothing to do with the mail carrier. It’s all my shit to work out.

BUT STILL.

What happened to “Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds??” 

This saying was spoken approximately 2,500 years ago by the Greek historian, Herodotus. It was engraved on the outside of the original USPS building in NYC in the late 1800s because the architect thought it looked and sounded pretty. But is not actually an official USPS slogan.

Turns out that mail carriers ARE required by the Postal Operations Manual to get off their butts and deliver mail to temporarily blocked boxes as long as it is safe to do so. And it’s not like I live along a busy highway or in a sketchy neighborhood.

But apparently, this fellow didn’t get that memo. Maybe his mailbox was blocked that day.

Interestingly, after recognizing that my anger stemmed from my own fear of getting into trouble, it subsided. Because I can't get in trouble from the mailman.

He was just doing his job. (Well, not really, but....) And I'm trying to live my life and do mine. And all we humans are connected on this Earth and need to give each other a break sometimes.

So Meta.

Thanks for reading, my friends!