The Postal Worker

All I wanted was to mail a couple of birthday presents.

I walked into the local post office and grabbed a box, everything fit in there perfectly, so I turned around to walk to the counter, and heard a voice call out from behind the counter:

“You should getcherself a priority box.  It’ll be cheaper.”

So I turn to look and see what and where they are.  She directs me, pointing from across the mail room, and I find them.  Unfortunately, my perfect 8x8x8 box didn’t come in priority, so I am stuck with smashing everything in a tiny box, a box that is entirely too big, or attempting to get everything into a long skinny box.

After a few minutes of surveying my options, I hear the same southern accent call me out.  “Did you find you one that will work?”

“No,” I replied, “I think I’ll just use…”

“Okay, let me come out there and getchu one. I’ll come help you, just wait on a minute.”

So out from behind the counter she comes to assist me in finding a box.  She tries the baby one, and then sets her heart on the long skinny one.  “We can get him in there.”

Everything was a “him.”

So, she asks if I wouldn’t mind squishing him (the book and cards) in around the doodle-kitty I got for my niece. I said no, that that would be just fine. We make our way over to the counter put everything in this box and tape it shut.  As we do so, the flaps start tearing, the box is no longer a rectangle, but a ripped up, rounded, sad looking thing.  Then she forgot the tape, so while I held him shut, she reached over and got her the tape.  About 15 pieces later, we were done.

Or so I thought.

I looked at the box and saw a shameful looking priority package, and then noticed a book on the counter.  I thought, “Huh, what are the odds someone else would be mailing the same book I’m mailing to my sister?”

And then the reality of the situation hit me. That wasn’t someone else’s book.

“Oh, gosh. okay. Okay. no this is fine, I’ll getchu a new box if we have to. Okay, I’m going to just see if. No, I’m going to cut a little slit in him and we can just slide him right in there. Or would that be too much?”  She laughed, realizing that the entire operation was going downhill rapidly.

She grabbed the scissors, went to cut a slit in the box, and then retracted, deciding a new box would be better.

At this point, I just said, “You know, it’s ok, I’ll just pay the extra money for the other box and that will work for me!”

But apparently it wasn’t going to work for me. For her, unless I get these misfits in a priority box, I will never get out of this post office. So she runs numbers for me.  $6.30 or $8.30. $6.30 or $8.30! It was only two dollars, but she continued to tell me “Priority will be six dollars and 30 cents.” She writes it on a piece of paper to show me. “If you don’t go priority it’s six dollars, 30 cents, plus two dollars. See, you’ll be paying two more dollars, and okay, let me just run these numbers again.”

She ran the numbers again, and I conceded. I figured, if she’s willing to go through all of this work to save me money, I ought to let her. I figured, if she’s willing to spend 20 minutes with me to just help me out and get the box ready to go, then I should let her help and stop being so rushed.

I handed over the package, taped shut and ready to go, payed the six dollars and 30 cents, and gathered up my purse and went to leave.  As I prepared to leave she said, “You know, we just do this stuff all the time, so we know how to save y’all some money.” I smiled, and said I appreciate that a lot.  Which I did. 

There are a lot of people in this world — too few are willing to take a few extra minutes to help a poor girl mail a package or save a couple dollars. I wish there were more people like that little lady at the post office because that’s really all it takes, just a small kindness, to change someone’s day.