Why is my mail wet?

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Well it's finally over, my brief career as a Royal Mail Postman has come to an end. Three months of rain, angry dogs, and a bike which enjoyed falling on me; it's been interesting, but I've hoarded away the pennies and can finally afford my trip to Africa.....March the 1st - Egypt....I'm so excited! I will miss the sexy uniform though.

How much thought do you put into how the mail works? I know I didn't give it any before; but really the postmen, sorry postPERSONS, deserve a lot more respect than they get. No one seems to understand how complicated the process of getting the mail from mailbox A to letterbox B really is. The mind numbing hours of sorting alone is a part of the job the uninitiated lay persons seem to forget about, most think that the mail just appears in our bags correctly sorted; never faltering to verbally abuse us if we make a mistake and yet always forgetting to thank us when an incorrectly or incompletely addressed piece of mail finds them, despite the fact that we are given the option of stamping 'Address Incomplete' on them and sending them back from whence they came. So when you next see your postman give him a little smile, and a friendly 'Hello'; although don't expect a response because if he is anything like I was he will be to far gone with thoughts of hatred for his customers....that and listening to a full volume rendition of 'Californication' on his Ipod.

On a lighter note there are a few funny stories from my time. One example occurred on a dark and stormy day early in the New Year, the rain is pouring down, I'm soaked to the skin, and a customer has the gall to ask 'Why is my mail wet?' to which I reply, whilst holding my waterlogged head to the teaming heavens 'Sorry I had a shower and forgot I had my mailbag.....Why the hell do you think!'......probably the only time I have ever felt like throttling another human being. Although there was the time a lady chased me, literally, 1/2 a mile down towards the end of her road, which I should add is lined with connected council houses who's front doors are about 6 feet from their neighbours', just to eventually catch up with me and say, between pants of exhaustion because she was rather large, 'You delivered next doors mail to me'. She was not happy when I thanked her for pointing out my mistake, asked her if she could correct it, then cycled off before she could reply.
Another funny moment, although at the time it was rather embarrassing for me, occurred during a day particularly heavy with mail. I got to one persons house, who for some reason gets rather a lot of mail, and proceed to try and cram all their mail into their tiny letterbox, swearing frequently when it gets stuck and won't go through... I believe things like 'F***ing people, why the F*** do they have such a stupid F****** letterbox' were said, eventually I succeed, turn around, realise that I've actually being shouting these things due to the volume of my Ipod, and that an entire street full of people have stopped what they were doing to stare rather disapprovingly at me.
Oh yeh, due to my long rather hippy like hair, I have being called 'Miss' and 'Darling' by short sighted old men. Ahhh good times lol

Anyway my guidebooks are bought, my insurance is sorted, my malarial prescription is cashed, and my arm is sore from jabs; so expect my next update, possibly a joint effort from Dave and myself, to appear from the land of the Pharaohs....Egypt.

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Comments

[Waderlusting]

I'll never look at postPERSONS the same again
Thanks for sharing this behind-the-scenes look at the thrilling lives of mailmen. You're stories are hiLARIOUS! hahahaa... (the ones from my street growing up were always so friendly).