Post Post Office Ramblings, aka "The Milkshake Made Me Do It"

Two full weeks and one day later, I turned in my badge and quit the postal service. I promptly purchased a celebratory milkshake at Sheetz along with a few Reese's cups, and for that I apologize to you, my voluntary audience. Judge me gently for what follows - there is no plan, and I'm on a sugar high like you've never seen.

Before this summer when I thought of the USPS, I don't know what came to mind. Definitely the cranky lady who delivers our mail - it's not our fault that Zelienople denied our plea to be part of their city - and a lot of bored-looking clerks sitting behind counters. Maybe the mailman from Christy, he always made me smile...

"Beautiful, ain't it! Just been told us by the gov-ment in Washington. Now looky here, I figure that if rain or snow, nor none of those things are meant to stay us couriers, then we shorely can't have no gal-woman stayin' us."

Nothing I've ever seen prepared me for the "Logistics and Distribution Center." I know that shows my age and inexperience, because my father isn't at all surprised when I describe the machines we work with. Maybe some of you would be surprised, too, if you walked into that rush and clatter. Semi trailers docking, unloading, loading, and departing at more than 60 doors are just the beginning - five sorting machines, and an army of people just like us either feeding machines or sorting packages manually. I've gained an appreciation and healthy respect for conveyor belts, one that grows every time I finish a shift.

So my world has been made a little bigger, in the most basic sense, by this little brush with industry. Did you know that it costs less to ship almost anything through the Post Office than any of the other shipping companies? True story. I've learned a lot of other things, too...

For example, I always thought that when Quentin Tarantino put language in his films, he was being hyperbolic. People don't actually cuss that much, right? WRONG. They really, really do. They swear when they're upset, when they want you to do something differently, when they're frustrated, tired, stressed, or injured.

They also swear when they're happy, in the middle of normal conversations, when they're joking, indifferent, or have nothing better to do. It's ridiculous.

Then there's unions. I've watched North and South and I'm pretty well-read in Pittsburgh's history - I have half an idea of why unions exist and, even, why they're important. I'm grateful that union labor regulations require the post office to give us 15 minute breaks every two hours and a half-hour lunch (even if it is off the clock). What I don't understand is... well, everything else about them. And how casual employees survive as long as some of them do - we do roughly twice the work at half the pay, with no hope of improving our position and desperate not to be fired.

Of course, you also have to be careful, because there are two ways to yourself kicked out - not working enough, or working too hard. The best advice that I should have followed earlier in my casual employee career was "Sometimes working smart means working dumb." There's no way we're a threat to union jobs, but if a regular decides they don't like you they will make your life hell.

Oh the things I could say... but I'm coming off that high and realizing how pointless this post is. So what's the deal? What's the moral of this story?

First, never assume you know what you're getting into. When in doubt, don't ask a supervisor, ask another casual so you can look dumb together. Never volunteer for extra hours, because if they don't keep you today, they'll keep you tomorrow. Don't pull the mask off the Lone Ranger, and never, never, eat off of the break room table.

The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote...

It's a bit late in the game to be writing this, but among the lessons I have learned at the Post Office is one about Christmas. And I am starting this with 12 minutes left in that blessed day, so I consider myself justified in attempting it, at the very least.

I have been known, among family and close friends, as a Grinch. In some ways it is a wonder that certain of my friends are still my friends, considering their devotion to the holiday. I am fine with the idea of Christmas, particularly when riding the cheery wave of Thanksgiving celebrations, but as the day draws closer I become grouchy and unhappy, and thus much more difficult to live with. I have many excuses for this behavior, but I'll only give you a few:

I have sometimes chosen to explain that I am disappointed by the blatant materialism of the holiday as most of us celebrate it, buying things that no one really needs and that they could just as easily buy for themselves (or that they will exchange so they can buy that other thing they really want). We treat it as everybody's birthday: it's very expensive, and the only people who really benefit are those in marketing.

 Or, I could say that the expectations stress me out. Christmas is supposed to be a cheerful time, full of time-honored traditions and merry-making with friends. Traditions and "merry-making" do not translate into our culture so well - we all want to have all of the traditions and negotiating the making of "merry" with friends with different schedules who are likewise involved in the keeping of all traditions is far too difficult. To top it off, the expectation of cheerfulness makes my sin nature rear up and say, "What? Cheerful? Well, now I'll be the farthest thing from it. On principle."

Finally, what is up with the music? 94.5FM plays only Christmas music from the day after Thanksgiving until the New Year, and while I appreciate their devotion, I swear there are only 20 Christmas songs in the whole world. They are all cheerful. They all talk about traditions that most of us don't have but wish we did (Yule Logs, White Christmas, a real life belief in Santa Clause, or the ubiquitous "sleigh-ride" that no longer has a wide-spread cultural context), which contributes to the stress mentioned in my last example.

On a more personal note, Christmas songs are all about the good old days and the people that we remember. I don't like to miss people. I want them to be here with me. Auld Lang Syne - since when is that a cheerful song? I don't want to miss "auld acquaintance," I don't want them to be gone in the first place.

So. That's the sort of thing I say. I admit I did some grinching this year, and I'm sure my friends and co-workers could give you some great examples, but working at the post office changed that a bit for me.

It's strange that transitioning from school to the night shift at a distribution center could do it. To be honest, when I took the job I breathed a sigh of relief - if I was working 72hr. weeks (as I was told I would be), I could take the holiday in small doses and hide from it when I wanted to. I felt that way right up until my second shift, when I saw the first package covered in colorful paper with the North Pole as the return address. And then the next day I got to do a manual sort - Christmas cards galore, from real people to real people. Lots of mail to APO addresses (that is, military mail), international packages, oddly shaped packages, coconuts from Hawaii pretending to be real packages.


In case you're wondering, you should never put Santa as the return addressee. I have seen too many packages go into limbo because of incomplete or torn addresses and an illegitimate return address. 

It is odd to think that this job, where anonymity is the name of the game, is the one that made me want to spend time with the people who know me, no matter how much stress comes along with it. The postal service is pretty darn quick - inspired by the mail I was sorting, I bought Christmas cards for some of my best friends, wrote notes in them during breaks, and mailed them two days before the big day, fairly sure that they would make it in time - but the extra time, the extra thought required to buy, package, mail, and be on time gave me some hope for this country and our traditions.

I haven't renounced Grinching altogether, and I probably won't until someone decides to write the modern equivalent of the sleigh song and put it to a melancholy tune, but I have made an effort to look for the opportunities in the holiday instead of the deficiencies. So far it's working, and I'm taking advantage of my day off to be with the people I love.

Merry Christmas, to my readers, my non-readers, and the people who play Springstein's version of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" on the radio ad nauseum. It's not about the stuff, it's not about the cheer, it's about the people. Start a new tradition, one that's about words and time and hours spent "unproductively." It will do wonders for your holiday experience.

Musings from the Post Office

Happy December 22nd from the United States Post Office! That's right, my Christmas break plans included rejoining the ranks of "casual" postal employees. It's a bit of a disappointing transition from the rush and bustle of finals week - along with all its celebration and study and friendship - to the rattle and hum of a distribution center, but my bank account and future plans tell me that it's necessary.

Every time I get off an 8...9...12 hour shift I have to give myself a little pep talk about resigning my appointment, as in, convincing myself I shouldn't. Tempting as it is to turn in my badge and spend two weeks doing nothing, I have to remember that this is valuable, not only because it pays better than anything else I could be doing over break, but because of the things I learn from it.

For instance, just yesterday as I was talking myself out of quitting it occurred to me that I really am spoiled. My little sister says I work too much, and I'll admit that the transition from a school day to the night shift was ill-conceived, but at the same time... this is what real people do. Real people have real jobs that don't end the second week of December and resume in mid-January, with nothing between but reading and cookie-making. Real people put in hours when they would rather be at home loving their families or soaking their aching feet or planning Christmas shopping. Real people have to say "no" to good things on a daily basis because there is less appealing life stuff that must be done - and I shouldn't hide from being a real person.

I got off my shift early today and thus found myself wandering around Walmart at 3am hoping I would be struck by brilliant gift ideas. I didn't get any, unfortunately, but I was struck by the number of employees that were also there at 3am, restocking shelves and sweeping isles. Here in America our standards for customer service are pretty high, and I wonder how often we overlook the people who are right there, doing the things that must be done - especially during the holidays. They're men and women made in the image of God and doing their best.

 I tried to pretend I wasn't there (difficult, when I was one of five customers in the whole store) and stayed out of their way, but I couldn't help but think that they and I were both suffering through the same graveyard shift experience. I looked down at my painting jeans and work shirt, evenly covered with "priority dust" and realized that I'm not anything special because I'm in grad school. I'm just a Walmart employee. I'm just a postal employee. I'm just a member of the working class... and I could show them a little more respect. Maybe you could too?