Postal Service

As much as Coach Jeff’s Blog tends to look on the bright side of life, I must admit there is a darker side to the secular side of Christmas.

You know the one. It plays on our primordial hunter/gatherer instincts.

It promotes the practice of shoppers camping out for hours on end for sale. It causes folks trample each other when the doors to a particular establishment open. It prompts retailers to open on Thanksgiving Day for Black Friday shopping.

I feel it was just this darker side that caused the man driving the larger, white SUV to cut in front of me. As I was driving Lisa’s Honda, I’m sure he didn’t even notice that I slammed on my brakes to avoided him as I continued en route to pick up three books of stamps at the post office on Saturday morning so we could mail our Christmas cards.  

When I saw that he, too, was heading for the post office, my own competitive instincts kicked in. 

As much as I hoped I could maneuver Lisa’s nimble vehicle into a close parking spot – and outdo the driver of the lumbering alabaster – he bested me. There was only one good parking spot; he got it. Dude even knew there was a side door so he was well-equipped to make his way to the line well ahead of me.

He was on a mission and he won the game. I slinked into the lobby of the building, defeated, only to notice the building throng of shoppers.

Wouldn’t you know he wound up one place ahead of me in the slow-moving queue?

My senses quickly turned from my loss in the driving/parking Olympics to the deteriorating example of customer service offered by the USPS. As a disclaimer, I appreciate the hard-working postal workers; they work late hours this time of year to deliver my bills, unsolicited sales circulars and a few Christmas cards. And the folks behind the counter generally do their best as well.

On Saturday, however, they were overmatched and they knew it.

As the line of 12 ahead of me quickly doubled behind me  and stretched into the lobby well past the self-service kiosk, I gazed toward the counter and quickly noted one of my great pet-peeves.

Why is it that, no matter how many stations are available at the postal facility, there are always vacant windows? In other words, on a busy Saturday morning, wouldn’t you schedule as much help as possible to meet the customer demands?

Just as that thought crossed my mind – and some of the more verbal patrons waiting with me confirmed it out loud – a third clerk showed up from behind the scenes. She joined the two gentlemen to her right – the ones behind Door Number One and Door Number Two. She opened Door Number Three and I thought “OK. They get it. Let’s open all the windows and maybe this line will begin moving?”

No sooner had that thought passed through my consciousness, the guy behind Door Number Two turned to the guy Behind Door Number One and said “I’m going to go ahead and get my break now.” And off he went; never again to be seen for the duration of our adventure.

Meanwhile, the line behind me reached 20 and the slots ahead of me ticked forward at a glacial pace. One grumbler behind me turned to another and said “This is a poor example of customer service.’’

Clearly.

Part of the explanation for the delay is that the transactions were labor-intensive.  Some folks brought paperwork with them that required a clerk go back into the abyss to find a letter or parcel. Other encounters required a different sort of TLC.

One couple toted in four packages to be mailed (I noted the destination on the boxes was somewhere in CT). It takes a while to process four parcels.

At the same time, the lady behind Door Number Three encountered a couple who had wrapped a box in brightly-colored Santa paper. They didn’t understand, however, that this might not be postal-friendly. Together, they worked with the clerk to make it possible for an address to be read on the piece – wedged in between smiling Santas - as the queue multiplied.

As the time passed, the stacks of boxes strewn about the facility grew. You might think – in addition to scheduling relief help to assist the clerks as they took their breaks – the USPS would have someone on hand to collect the boxes and take them to some sort of holding bin. That’s not the case.

The counter continued to fill up with every box carried by each paying customer. At one point, a lady rushed in from the lobby and announced that the self-service bin was full. So there was no place to put those packages. She stacked a bunch of them on the counter of Door Number Two.

Soon, it became the holding bin. I can only imagine when the clerk returned from his juice break, he had to spend at least five minutes to make his station ready for business. 

Finally, after a 30 minute experience, my moment came. Now approaching the counter, I requested my three books of stamps.

I paid for them and exited the building just as the aggressive driver of the white SUV left the facility beside me.

He looked in my direction, shook his head and said “And they wonder why they are losing money…” I grinned and nodded.

There we were, former rivals, united by our shared experience.

JG

Originally posted 12/15/2014