Sunday, January 8

Wait a minute, Mr. Postman

I love the United States Postal Service. Sometimes they feel like my only friends in government. The tax man sure don't love me. And my congressman still hasn't responded to my little love note about impeachment. But my postman and woman? They faithfully show up -- come rain, shine, sleet or on aching feet in snow. Often with a smile.

In return, all they've ever asked of me (until today) is thirty-seven measley cents per letter that I mail. For that paltry sum, they deliver my well-wishing cards to loved ones and relectant personal checks to creditors thousands of miles away. Note: If I wanted "me" delivered merely across the block, no taxi driver would ever take it this easy on my wallet.

So today, as the USPS hikes the price of first class postage to thirty-nine cents, I'm licking my new two-centers with a smile. Postal services seem to be the only necessities we purchase today that still offer us real value. They show up for us more reliably than some of our family members seem to. In fact, we should be so appreciative of postal workers that we shouldn't do much bill paying online. (We must protect their jobs! Some of these folks are latent killers, so who wants them working where we work?)

A few years ago I completed a survey issued by the USPS, whereby I was asked to give my assessment of their service. I gushed, told the USPS I was their biggest fan. Even urged them to please contact me if they ever wanted a satisfied customer to star in any advertising extolling their virtues.

Much to my dismay, no one ever followed up on my testimonial offer. I guess they were too busy sorting out my blasted bills... Which they're never too busy to stuff in my mailbox. Every single day, like clockwork (except on Sundays, thank you Lord).

Now, I'm not saying they're perfect. Turns out they lose my ish a lot. My postman is very social, I've noticed, chatting up all of us neighbors on his route. Probably accidentally dropping my mail in the sewer or snow. Or wiping remants of secret sauce from his ever-flapping lips with my Sears bill after lunch. But that's okay. With Sears's postage money, he can act as postal as he wants, get mad and toss every last bill in the gutter.

... Hey wait a minute, Mr. Postman: I'm picking up enormous late fees on this MIA stuff. So, love ya', but for this extra two cents, I need my Sears bill here on time.

Clicks to Miles Davis catalog, but explore as you like


Blogger Berry said...

Great post...thanks for the heads up. I knew it was coming but didn't realize it was here. At least they waited until after the holidays. Now I have all these left over holiday theme 37 cent stamps left over and will either have to overpay to mail something or shuffle on down to P.O. before 6:00 p.m. to get the 2 centers.

8:19 PM  
Blogger Viqi French said...

yes! wasn't that thoughtful of them to let us get thru the holidays before the price hike? i'm not kidding, i really like the way they operate. a class act that deserves a lot more recognition than they seem to get.

a lot of businesses (and others in government) would do well to take a few PR lessons from the USPS. because when they need more money, i don't mind paying it, unlike with any other organization.

5:56 AM  

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