Don’t we all know the Post Office motto “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds”? It’s not official, but the words are inscribed across the top of the main Post Office building in New York City. We also know how slowed down mail delivery became under the “leadership” of Louis DeJoy, appointed as postmaster general by the previous president.
Mail is still slow. Incredibly slow. Unbelievably slow.
On February 10, I wrote a check to Janice, the woman who cleans my apartment every other week. Some days later, I mailed her the check. (I’ve continued to pay her through the pandemic whether or not she comes.) This evening Janice, who lives in Brooklyn, called to tell me she had just received the check. It was postmarked, she said, on February 16, the day I took it to the Post Office. That was six weeks ago.
Now where has that envelope been sitting all these weeks? Or did it go around the world a couple of times? Janice’s home is 14 miles away by car. If I’d walked it to her, it would only have taken at most four and a half hours.
As the humorist Peter Sagal, of Wait, Wait... Don’t Tell Me,” said, we shouldn’t know the name of the postmaster general. Now is there any way to get rid of him?
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I’m participating in the 14th annual Slice of Life Challenge over at Two Writing Teachers. This is day 29 of the 31-day challenge. It’s not too late to make space for daily writing in a community that is encouraging, enthusiastic, and eager to read what you have to slice about. Join in!
