Going Postal Update

 
You can read the first part of Going Postal here.

I ordered the same thing from the same place again this month. Since I had so much trouble the last time, I was sure to track the package again. On the day that tracking information said the package had been delivered. I checked my box and found nothing.

Since we still have rotating carriers who might arrive anywhere between early morning and late afternoon, I couldn't be certain it wouldn't arrive later in the day. What to do? Run over there hourly to check? Complain early and hope I wasn't wrong?

My daughter came by to visit and said, as she drove past the mailboxes on her way out, she would check again for me. Here's what she found.

 

 
The manila envelope on the ground is my package. There was plenty of room in my box for it – actually room for at least three packages that size.

Yesterday, as I headed to the post office with these pictures, I stopped in the management office at my apartment complex to see if they had already addressed this problem. Surely, other residents had complained about having their mail left on top of the boxes and on the ground.

Yes, other residents had complained and management  had already talked to the supervisor at our post office about this problem, as well as the erratic schedule and the postal carrier's excuses for it. First, he said he was late some days because he had to go find bathrooms to use. They gave him a key to the restroom in the office so that wouldn't be a problem. Then, he said he didn't like the restaurants in our area so finding a place to eat sometimes affected his schedule. Within two miles of here, you can get fast food, slow food, great food, crappy food, Mexican food, Greek food, Japanese food, American food, deli food, bakery goods with and without gluten, soups, fruit plates, cheap food, and expensive food. I can't imagine what a person could want for lunch and not be able to find in my neighborhood.

I took my pictures to the post office, waited in line for my turn, and asked for a supervisor. The girl I was speaking with pointed at a guy sitting behind the counter to my right. I walked over there and woke him, waited a second for him to rub his eyes and get oriented, and asked if he remembered me – the person who had called multiple times in November because my package had not arrived as reported on the tracking page and wouldn't give up until someone at least pretended to care. Nope, he didn't remember me.

I wondered if that meant he honestly cared so little that he could forget, or that there had been so many complaints that he didn't want to guess which one I was. I refreshed his memory about November and then showed him the pictures of the second incident.

He batted his eyes and I guessed that meant he was trying to figure out what my problem was since I obviously found my package. So, I told him what my problem was – I believe I deserve better service – and how unfortunate it is that this is happening to someone who has been quite the activist in trying to save the USPS from the Republicans who want to do away with his job.

He asked me to text the photos to his phone so he could share them with his supervisor.

Silly me. I guess I should have asked for the supervisor instead of the manager.