Going Postal

“Great works are often born on a street corner or in a restaurant's revolving door.” ~Albert Camus, French author, journalist and philosopher (1913-1960)

The USPS Office at the corner of Washington Boulevard and 10^th Avenue is located in the center of an ancient strip mall. Its very appearance made me distinctly uncomfortable.

My supervisor had directed me here because “it is never busy.” Now I could see why. At this point, it didn’t matter where it was or what it looked like. My 12-year-old pickup was laden with mismatched pasteboard boxes filled with stuffed #10 envelopes.   The 1100-piece Christmas mailing had to go out “pronto.” Here I was, so here it would be dropped off.

Staring at the boxes for a moment, I decided the best course of action was to go inside first and find out what I needed to do. I didn’t relish the idea of schlepping the boxes inside then putting all these envelopes down a mail chute handful by handful. So I carefully locked the truck with a sigh and headed inside.

When I entered the lobby, to my surprise, there were only two people in line.  In suburban post offices during the Christmas season, it would not have been unusual to encounter a line of 10 to 20 people. My brief euphoria dissipated, however, when I realized that the sole postal clerk appeared to be behind bullet-proof glass.

Stepping into line, I mentally rehearsed the question(s) I would asked when it was finally my turn. In this moment of “unawareness,” a voice from behind me startled me. “Excuse me sir, can I help you?” Turning, I found myself facing a young, diminutive African-American woman. Her blue postal uniform appeared at least a size too large. “Excuse me?” I asked. “Can I help you?” she responded again with a smile.

I quickly, though not very succinctly, explained what I was trying to accomplish. “So do you just want me to bring the boxes to the counter or do you want me to put the envelopes down the mail chute?”

“You can just bring them to that door over there,” she said pointing in the direction of a nearby door which led into the back. “Can I get you a cart?” Her last question surprised me. My experience with governmental bureaucracy has jaded me over the years. During my past encounters, it always seemed I was standing in the wrong line, had not filled out the necessary form, or had filled out the wrong form. Her proactive response had caught me unawares. “I’ll get you a cart,” she said disappearing into the back before I could respond.

The young woman returned in moments. “Do you want me to go out and bring your boxes in for you?” Again, I was surprised. “No, that’s OK,” I stammered. “I can do it.”

Hastening to my truck, I quickly loaded the boxes into the cart. Relocking the truck, I headed back across the parking lot and into the building. The young woman had just finished helping another customer as I entered. She smiled and took control of the cart. “Would you like your boxes back?” For the third time I was surprised.

“No, that’s OK. There are more where those came from.” She smiled one last time, turned and disappeared into the back room.

As I left the Post Office and head back to my truck, the day seemed brighter somehow.

All too often, our lives are conditioned by the way in which we are treated by others. Our days are marred by freeway encounters and harsh words exchanged between family members, fellow employees, and sometimes complete strangers.

As a result, we tend to focus on avoidance rather than commitment. When people recount uncomfortable incidents in their lives, they often emphasize their own lack of blame. Expressions like: “I didn’t do anything wrong” or “I don’t know what his problem was” are common.

In a world where avoidance becomes the primary objective, we often lose sight of our own tremendous capacity to do good and to have a positive influence on the lives of others. Just as evil often begets evil, so too does good often beget good.

During the Christmas season, in a Post Office, I readily expected to be treated badly, or at best indifferently. That expectation jaded any encounter I might have had. On the other hand, the helpful cheery little postal clerk, who undoubtedly was overworked, broke a potentially bad cycle.

As stewards of our relationships with others, we are not called to avoid confrontations; rather we are called to break cycles of negativity by our capacity to do good. We are not called to be blameless bystanders; rather we are called to be fearless do-gooders. Be of good cheer!

Dear God: Show me how I can make a difference in the world.

“A tree is known by its fruit; a man or women by their deeds. A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.” ~Saint Basil, Greek Bishop of Caesarea Mazaca in Cappadocia, Asia (329-379)

©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
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