Post Office

Unlike many Americans, I enjoy going to the post office. I don't mind standing in line, so much. Today, I stood in line a good 20-25 minutes. Everyone was so quiet. I wanted to make conversation with the guy ahead of me and the guy behind me, but I ended up thinking that perhaps they wouldn't be interested in chatting with me. I kept wanting to say bright and happy things like, "It's almost your turn!" I noticed the guy in front of me was fixin' to mail a package to a sister missionary in Texas. I thought about asking, "So is she worth the wait?"

There's one employee at my post office that feels like a long lost cousin. You know, feels like family, but not the kind of family member you talk to all the time. This is how he greets every customer, "How you dooeeenn?" As if he's your next door neighbor and has missed you a whole lot since your last visit. I like the way he phrases things, "Would you like this to be registered or certified or should we just get it gooeeenn?" They're all pretty nice, but I admit, while standing in line, I think to myself, "I hope I get HIM."

I did chuckle, but not too loudly as I watched a couple of young men try to find a package for which they had a tracking number. I guess three guys live together and only ONE of them had his mail put on hold while vacationing and it ended up that all three stopped getting mail, so one of them went to the post office last week to take the hold off, but now, nobody could locate this package. Man, they were at the counter forever. Finally, the employee returned to the counter and said, "It's sitting in your box--we called your carrier."

No, that's not the funny part. The funny part was watching one of the guys work on his fashion statement. When he entered the post office, he was wearing ratty jeans with a wide white belt and all of that was riding near the bottom of his butt cheeks (if the school nurse can say "butt cheeks" in front of the whole fifth grade, then I can say it on my blog). Somewhere in the middle of their missing box mess, he decided he needed to adjust things. I looked around--pretty much everyone in line was catching this. He fiddled with the front. He fiddled with the back. He fiddled all around, sliding up and sliding down. Frankly, I'm not sure WHAT all he was doing. I feared for a moment that those pants were going to end up on the floor. However, when he decided it was how he wanted it, those jeans and that white belt were in the same exact place as when he started. You had to be there.

I even got a little sentimental at the post office. It was this season a few years ago that I was standing in line at another post office. End of the day--everyone tired--bad weather outside. A really old fellow came shuffling in with a Santa hat on. He smiled at the crowd in line. His eyes twinkled. And just like that, with a clear tone, he began singing, "Sleigh bells riiiiiiiiiiingg......." He kept going and EVERYONE joined in! It may not have been a Christmas Miracle, but it surely was a Christmas Moment.

No, I don't mind standing in line at the post office.