Bummer of a Day

What a bummer of a day. To start off with, it's Monday. Then after many many short-sleeve wearing days this winter, it's actually feeling like winter. My feet got cold. I hate cold feet. AND, it's been raining all day. Actually, not all day. For a little while this morning we had big fluffy snowflakes. It lasted all of 10 minutes.

I know I don't really have a right to complain about the weather. If you're going to be a mailman anywhere in the world, this is the place to do it. It's not Florida-hot and it's not Minnesota-cold. Most of the year, it's just fine. I wouldn't have even minded so much, but I had such a bad day on my mail route.

A customer left me a nasty note. This happens from time to time to even the best mail carriers. There are weird people out there who will complain about anything. But this lady's not like that. We talk from time to time and she's very reasonable and nice. That's what shook me. She used words like "dissatisfied" "paying customer" "happens regularly".

I won't bore you with her problem, but I assure you, it most certainly does not happen regularly. In fact, it never has on my watch. Maybe on my day off, but I can't control that. After 10 years at the post office, I know that the phrase "happens regularly" is something everyone throws in because it's so much more effective than "twice in the past 5 years."

I spent the rest of my route going back and forth between angry and sad and composing a response in my head that was properly apologetic, but also set the record straight. I gave her letter to my boss to straighten out and it turns out she even came to the post office looking for me while I was on the street. Geez.

Side note: I remember my first complaint ever. I had just started and the receptionist at a business complained that I "refused" to take her outgoing mail. In actuality, it was hidden under stuff on her desk and she wasn't there when I delivered. What I don't get is that she must have seen me at some point. The complaint mentioned me specifically as the young girl with short curly brown hair, in denim shorts, with a sleeveless blue gingham shirt, driving vehicle ####. I felt like she was gunning for me. I cried so hard at the time. It seems silly now. (And my hair is closer to blonde, thank you very much.)

Second side note: I know there's lots of bad carriers out there. Everyone has a crappy mail man story. But I work really hard at making my people like me. I have a disease that makes me need to be liked. I also possess an obnoxiously strong moral character that forces me to do good when I'd rather do bad. I can't handle guilt.