Hello, Newman!

If you or a loved one are employed by the United States Postal Service, please stop reading now.

I had occasion to visit the post office today, an experience I would not encourage others to seek out. Normally, I avoid the post office, but since my retirement paperwork requires that it be sent certified mail, I had to make the trek.

The United States Postal Service is a dying business. Email, online banking and parcel delivery services have rendered it obsolete.

There are just two unofficial categories of mail; bills and junk. Online banking means that even the bill volume is dropping month by month, leaving the Postal Service with a growing dependence on junk advertising for its survival. A full 90% of the typical mail delivery to your box is junk mail. Spam in a can.

The first branch of the United States Postal Service I visited today had a line of about 20 customers and one postal clerk. People who go to the post office do so reluctantly because they have some mail dilemma or another, meaning that the line moves very slowly. Rather than devote an hour, I just left in search of greener pastures.

I got the bright idea to visit the main branch of our post office, figuring it would be well-staffed. I was wrong. In a city of over a million people, the flagship location of the United States Postal Service had two clerks on duty. The line stretched out the door, but I waited, figuring that this was a good as it was going to get.

There were lots of employees present, but only two devoted to attending to the patrons. Several milled around, including a guy named Julius, who looked like a serial killer. He wore blue USPS overalls and walked back and forth through the office, his postal service ball cap on backwards, and his bulging arms covered in what I would describe as prison tats. If trouble broke out, I was with Julius.

One clerk devoted nearly the entire time I was there, waiting on a single customer. There was a woman from a business who had a giant stack of envelops she was mailing. For reasons that I don't know, the postal clerk had to record the address from each envelope into a giant ledger. She did this all in longhand, letter by letter. I half expected the ghost of Abe Lincoln to walk in and offer to help by writing on a shovel.

A third clerk appeared shortly after I got in the door. She took up a position at one of the windows and shouted, "Anyone here for general delivery?" When no one spoke up she closed her window and disappeared into the back. She returned several more time to repeat the routine. During my thirty minute wait, she didn't handle a single transaction, despite the long line of waiting patrons. At one point she told one of the two clerks on duty that should anyone show up for general delivery, she would be taking her break. I'm guessing that the only way to tell if she is on break is whether she is sitting or standing.

There is a special office at the main branch to just sell stamps. They call it the....drumroll, please,...Stamp Office. During my wait I counted maybe 15 people who breezed in and went directly to the Stamp Office, only to be halted by a sign saying the occupant was on break and would return shortly.

They also had an old guy at an information desk by the door in case you had a question about the postal facility. I'm sure he was very helpful should you need someone to point out the line, which is pretty much what he did, except during the time he stopped Julius to tell him about some recent surgery.

The best thing about the whole affair was the red sign posted at every window, advising patrons that if they approach the window while talking on a cellphone, or should they answer the phone while at the window, they would be denied service. America needs more people to stand up to the cellphone addicts.

The government could save a lot of money if it would just sell the postal business to UPS, FedEx or any of a bunch of companies that actually make a profit. I don't think anyone really wants the whole mess though. Besides the real purpose of the postal service is to act as a jobs program for the government.

My postman, a guy named Keith, told me that he doesn't like the community mailboxes, serving several families from a single location, because it cuts down on the number of letter carriers needed. That tells me a lot.

All in all, I came away disillusioned by the whole business. Five times the staff and twice the cost. Government at its finest.







Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor