post office

A package was lost. I tracked it and it was coming along with another package by U.S. Mail this one particular day. The packages contained proofs for my new Tomversation cartoon calendar. There were two separate proofs. In two separate packages.

One arrived, one didn’t. When I checked back with tracking, it said that customer, meaning me, requested that it remain at the post office for me to pick up, which of course made no sense.

The next morning, I started calling my local post office as soon as they opened at 8:30 am. I wanted to see if I could catch my mail carrier before she left for her rounds for the day. I didn’t have her private cell number, as I did with previous postal carriers. So I called and called the post office and there was no answer.

At about 11:00 am, I headed over to the post office. It’s never very crowded, which is good, since they are slow as fuk there.

The girl behind the counter asked to help me, I told her the issue and she asked for the tracking number, which I didn’t have. I left it at home. I told her, “I am not leaving without that package. Can’t you just look for it using my address?” She said no.

I remembered I had an email with the tracking numbers and I found that gave her the number. Then she took it and went into the back and that was it – for what seemed forever, she was gone.

There was one other postal worker there and she was helping a lady and she went into the back, and she was gone. And for what seemed forever, the lady and I stood out at our postal windows waiting for the two postal workers to return. And we waited and waited.

Crickets.

A guy came in and started to wait for his turn and then he started getting angry. And he started making comments.

“Maybe they’re at lunch.” I joked.

“Is it lunchtime already?” He asked.

He then he started in with socialism. He said, “People want socialism!” This is socialism! Incompetence.”

I normally would be angry at what he was saying, but I agreed with him. I said, “I never was for the privatization of the post office, but if this was a private business, these people would out of a job. They would be long gone due to their incompetence.

He agreed.

I then said, “Well be glad you aren’t in New York City!” referring to Zohran Mamdani’s mayoral win.

He replied, “Funny you should say that. Mamdani is living in my parents’ old apartment building in Queens, NY.” Which did seem odd and funny at the moment. “Yes,” he said. “The apartment my parents used to live in is now rented by Mamdani and his family.” A full circle moment, I guess.

Finally the two postal workers came out and mine said to me, “Your package is now with your postal carrier, she will deliver it today. They had it in the wrong bin yesterday, so it sort of got lost. I just spoke to Maria (the carrier) and she says she has it with her.”

She then says, “Why didn’t you just call early today to try and catch her?”

I said, “Are you joking? I called non-stop all morning and no one picked up. I literally called 35 times.”

I then showed her my phone and the 35 attempted calls I made.

She asked me if I had the right number and I just smiled and walked out.

I always want to move to Italy and this post office incident reminds me of so many stories I hear about the service, or lack of it in every part of Italy. So I’ll chalk this incompetence up to a short Italian experience without leaving the neighborhood.