Letters from Pemberley

This morning I had to go to the post office to mail some CDs for Derek’s parents who are taking a long car trip this weekend.  They need them by Wed pm.  Should be a fairly simple task, right?  Not when the US government gets involved. 

First of all, I’m fighting a terrible head cold which I came down with right after my mastitis healed.  So I’ve been woozy and dizzy for a week now, and I had to get two kids (one of whom should have been napping) and three packages out of the house at once.  When we arrived at the post office at 9:30 (an off-time, right?), Tommy whining and Lizzie screaming, there was a line of 11 people in the main room and no employees at any of the four desks.  After standing around there for about 10 minutes, I realized that at least I could go use the automated machine for my other two packages instead of standing like an idiot in a long line behind an empty desk.  I did that, and read on the sign that the automated machine could do express mail, too.  We had to do express mail overnight because Priority mail is usually 2 days (which would be fine) but they “can’t guarantee” it.  Could any real business not attached to the government get away with that?  But when I tried to do it, it asked me to fill out a form.  I checked out with my two other packages and gave up my place in the automated line to go search for the forms.  When I found them, there was no pen around, so I had to cut halfway up the line (which still hadn’t moved) to use the one pen on a chain in the entire facility.  Meanwhile, Lizzie had calmed down at last, but Tommy decided to push her stroller around for fun and roused her back up.  Dirty looks from the disgruntled people in line.  I went back out to the automated machine, waited in line behind two people, then bought the $22.50 stamp to guarantee next day delivery.  The machine told me to take my customer copy of the form and spit out my receipt.  But where was I supposed to put the expensively stamped package?  There were no express mail stickers anywhere, so how would anyone know that it was supposed to get to Detroit by tomorrow?  The stamp I’d bought didn’t say anything about express mail, and the form that I’d stuck on the side had a lot of spaces where an employee was supposed to fill out when the package had been received, etc, but it didn’t give any instructions about where I could put this package to guarantee it would be express mailed.  I went back into the main room, where three more people had joined the line in the past 10 minutes.  A little lady came out to one of the counters and started helping the first person in line, but after 5 more minutes and a pleading phonecall to Derek, the line had not moved and I had no idea if I needed to stand in line to drop this off to someone or if I needed to do anything else.  I went back out to the first class mail collection bin where I dropped off my other packages.  Yes, a little sign said that I couldn’t drop off anything heavier than 13 ounces for security reasons, but it was big enough to fit my 2 lb express package, and the automated machine had specifically asked if my package would fit in that collection bin.  I waffled until Tommy started losing it back in the main lobby.  I dropped it in, figuring that maybe when someone emptied it out at 5 pm they might possibly notice that I had paid the express mail rate and would send it along faster than first class.  It was that, or me going insane for another half hour or hour in there.  And this was one of the faster, more pleasant experiences I’ve had…just try media mailing something when you CAN’T use the automated machine…visions of Tommy screaming and thrashing on the slushy-wet floor of the post office while we waitied in line an hour to mail Christmas presents still give me the chills…

So I brought the kids home, vowing that I would NEVER, EVER step foot in a Chicago post office EVER again.  If I can’t mail something from home, I’m just going to walk down to the quick, efficient, friendly UPS store half a mile away and UPS my packages from now on.  I will happily pay the difference.  I can’t take the incompetance, the bad attitude of the lazy USPS employees, and the complete lack of helpful instructions in this and every other Chicago area post office I’ve visited.  (It’s possible to run a post office well, because I had nothing but good experiences in Brentwood.)

And…soon these people will be running our health system as well as our postal system.  Can’t wait to go through this when it’s my child’s health, and not just my sanity, on the line.