PO

It was the day before postage went up by two cents, and the post office was flooded. On top of the looming rate increase it was also noon, and the doors would close in just over an hour. Normally there were three postal employees helping customers and the line would move along fairly quickly, sometimes too fast for Josh to scribble a send and return address on whatever he was mailing that day without walking and writing at once. Today there were only two. There was a bit of annoyance in the air, but Josh was completely at peace with the situation. He found himself here about once a week, usually mailing books, sometimes small gifts to his family. Sometimes he could walk right up to the counter and finish his business in under five minutes, other days he would spend close to thirty minutes waiting. It didn’t matter to him, he never stopped by with any pressing engagement immediately following his mailing.

“Anyone here for pickup, non-monetary transactions…?” an employee asked, just coming up behind the counter.

A few people pulled out of the main line to pick up their held mail or retrieve a package, and left.

The postman on the far left was engaged with an Asian couple accompanied by their daughter of about three as they mailed six boxes all alike in size and weight, as Josh overheard.

“So…do these all weigh about the same?” asked the postman. The husband replied that they did, in somewhat broken English.

“Ok, I’ll print up the same tag for all of them, and we’ll send them off as you tape up the rest, ok?”

Josh looked to the opposite end of the counter to see about fifteen more of the same boxes waiting to be taped.

As the tags were printed the man went back and forth between taping and hauling to the postman.

The second employee had helped two customers in the last ten minutes. It didn’t appear to be because of any ineptness on her part, the people she helped just had odd and numerous requests for their mail.

Josh was mailing a science book to someone he’d never met who lived in a place he’d never been. Ken Faith of Suffolk, Virginia was the lucky winner of a 100 level textbook Josh had opened twice the previous semester. Once to see if the CD was there, and once to study for a test, which lasted about fifteen minutes. He was about three feet from the table for addressing mail while in line. Two customers later, he was writing his own address above Ken’s at the table.

The Asian couple continued their taping and mailing with little talking, while the employee between them and the postman issuing pickups moved people through the line as best she could.

“Can I help anyone with just a pickup? Something without money?” asked the postman.

“Open another line.”

A man of about sixty in insulated coveralls and thick, dark gold rimmed glasses was glaring at the postman. No twitching up of the lip or wink of the eye to signify that this was said in good humor.

“I wish I could, but unfortunately I’m not authorized to do monetary transactions today, sorry.”

Josh understood this. He’d been in too many situations similar to the postman’s of his own not to sympathize with him. Rules can be ridiculous to the customer, and they seem ridiculous to you too, but when you’re working for The Man, the rule is the end of the discussion.

Josh couldn’t see the coveralled man’s reaction to this, but he imagined a shaking of the head, maybe a ‘psh’ noise. He found himself smirking at this fabricated response, then quickly withdrew his smile. Someone might think that I’m smirking in favor of this guy, at the lameness of the post office guy, he thought.

“Panfaced rice-eaters, taking up everybody’s fuggin’ time,” came the grumble from Coveralls.

“HEY!” The serene look on Josh’s face had hardened into aggressively downturned eyebrows, narrowed stare, and fierceness spouting from his eyes. Everyone in between the two of them started and turned to look at him, including Coveralls.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you say something like that?” Josh yelled.

“What? They’ve been at the counter since I walked in here, and he’s still taping up his damn boxes! Probably sending dead cats home for dinner or something….” he trailed off.

Stunned and enraged, Josh did the only thing he could think to do. He threw his packaged book at the man as hard as he could. He didn’t take the time to throw it from a corner to send it sailing quickly in a straight line toward his victim, just threw it like a batter swinging, with both arms sending the book flopping and twisting in the air. The man flinched and deflected the book with his own box. His dropped to the ground while Josh’s first bounced off of the customer nearest before coming to a rattling thud on the glass case housing Ronald Reagan stamps.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds Then Josh spit in his general direction and walked out of the building, cursing and thinking horrible thoughts.