Gone Postal!

Lately it's been getting to be too long between posts here. Sorry.

I've been busy. Suddenly got an uptick in interest in my business, and I've been trying to become more of a social media butterfly, which doesn't come naturally to my introverted self. I have been scrambling to get a lot of work done while I still had my student around. She graduated this weekend.

Life's been pretty boring from a running point of view, but I feel like there aren't enough hours in the day when it comes to work and getting my workouts in. I did manage to get over 70 miles on my feet this week, but only about half of that was running.

I spend a lot of time walking these days, doing my brain crunching exercises. Most of the work I'm doing now requires a lot of thinking and creative ideas, and I do that best while walking.

I am considering doing a long run next weekend, it could be some creative adventure but I haven't had time to think about it. So it will probably be unannounced until I post about it.

Nurses' Week
I've had some fun too. It was Nurses' Week and I wrote an opinion piece in the local paper. So nice to be able to speak freely. I got a lot of positive feedback via email and private messages after that one. Just another indication of how fearful nurses are.

Going Postal

I've been entertained, sadly. I hope none of my readers are postal employees who are genuinely good people and hard workers. Unfortunately there are a bunch who give y'all a bad name.

Maybe I shouldn't laugh at this, but we have a community mailbox in our front yard. About a week and a half ago someone left a note on the outgoing mail slot saying that mail was not being collected. "Mailbox broken" written in sharpie on a post office slip.

After we didn't get any mail for three days, and none of the neighbors were getting theirs either, I called the post office. It took four different numbers before I actually spoke to a human being. Then the human being gave me another number to call, which lead me to a dead end.

It was a voice mailbox, but the greeting said no one is checking this mailbox. Hell of a lot of good that does! So I called the human being again, who reluctantly gave me the mail carrier phone number at our post office.

I called the carrier line and they told me that the lock on the back of the box was broken and our mail was being held at the post office until the box is replaced. I asked how long it would be. "Could be a week, could be a month. They have to come up from Denver to fix it."

Helpful. I asked why no one had informed us that this was the situation and she didn't have an answer. All we got was a notice that the outgoing mailbox was "broken" but no one left a note about the incoming mail.

A week ago Saturday early in the morning I decided to brave the line at the Post Office. It felt like I wandered into the Zombie Apocalypse. They have blank looks on their faces, and only speak to give expressionless greetings. All that's missing are blood and brains. There are four people working behind the counter, a line out the door, but only two are serving customers. The other two don't even look up from their gaze at the desk or whatever they're doing back there. One of them was sitting there working on passport applications.

Don't they have the sense to go in the back to work on that so people don't feel like they are being ignored? I guess customer service is a concept that is completely unheard of.

When they walk back to fetch somebody's mail, they move at a snail's pace. Someone needs to give these people a racewalking lesson. They obviously do get paid by the hour, in a very protected job, and it shows.

Just when I got to the front of the line, the customer in front of me had paid for something with a check. He filled out the check and put the amount in the little box, signed it, but didn't write the amount out on the line. The doofus postal worker looked up in my direction with a blank stare on his face, and said, "That guy didn't fill out his check." He looked around, as if asking for divine intervention. I said, "Did he sign it?"

He looked down at the check. "He signed it, and he put the amount in the box but didn't write out the amount on the line. I need to go ask my supervisor." He turned around and high-snailed it, like he had lead orthotics in his shoes, to the unknown territory of the giant back room.

OMFG.

Requirements for postal worker counter employment:
1. No independent or critical thinking skills, or initiative
2. Emotional intelligence= ZERO
3. Slower than dog snot
4. Personality of a piece of discarded gum on the sidewalk

And they love to wait on the customer in front of you, get finished, then walk away without making eye contact or saying anything. So you have no idea if they are coming back, or if it's down to one worker serving a long line of people waiting.

Finally the guy came back and called out an emotionless "Next." I felt like I was in the line for the Soup Nazi.

By the time I walked out of there, I felt like this.

I think I'll just pick up my mail once a week until this is over. It's too creepy and unpleasant in there.

I called one more time to the carrier line to find out if they had an ETA on the new mailbox. The following Wednesday, this sign appeared on the front of the box, with the dead end voice mail number (I checked again). Oh so helpful.

So we're in mail limbo, until who knows when.

Iris's 14th Birthday
Last Wednesday was Iris's birthday. She was so happy to be the queen for a day. Not that she ever is anything less than a princess. I baked pupcakes and we had a little party for her with the student I've been working with. She and Iris have become quite fond of each other over the past semester.

Iris got a new orange Frisbee. She has the energy of a dog half her age. I'm so lucky to have these two around after 14 years and still doing so well. Every day is a celebration with them, from butt rubs first thing in the morning to cuddling at night in the bed with us, and all the walks, singing, dancing, playing, talking, chasing, spying, and begging in between.