Tis the Season!

It's hard to believe that Christmas is just 10 short days away.  I confess.  I don't care.
I care - but not for the right reasons.  This job I have sucks any remnant of joy I might manage to muster for the season.  I care because that means I am 10 days closer to having some sort of normalacy return to my world.

Other than Sundays and holidays, days off don't exist. If I am not "doing" a route, I am assisting in delivering the hundreds and hundreds of parcels that need to be delivered.  Today it was parcel delivery.  Got to work at 7:30.  Got done at 6:30.  I made repeated trips with my gas-sucking SUV filled to the brim,   Thank goodness I get a fair and reasonable mileage reimbursement. 

One of my stops today was at a farm I had delivered to before.  There is a beware of dog sign at the driveway.  In my previous experience I had never spied a dog.  Always cautious, just in case, but never a dog to be seen.  Today I was in a hurry.  I didn't give any credit to the clearly bogus dog sign. I pulled into the driveway and turned around so that my car was facing the road and the back of it was facing the house.  I got out of the car and went around to the back hatch and opened it up. A brown rottweiler seemed to come out of nowhere.  Not particularly aggressive but why take chances?  So I backed up slowly toward the drivers door and a black rottweiler magically appeared.  The two had me pinned to the car with no where to run.  I inched back toward the back of the car.  I had so many packages there wasn't really room for me, but that was the least of my problems.  In the most non-threatening manner I could manage I reorganized so I could sit inside the opening.  Then I gently brought my legs inside, forced to place them somewhat up in the air over some parcels that were in the way.  The dogs got so close they took the opportunity to smell my feet and legs.  They drooled.  They didn't bark or growl but they were BIG and showing their proportionately big teeth.  I talked to them.  They didn't seem to care that I was being friendly.  My phone was in the front of the car so calling for help was out of the question.  The dog spray issued to me was also in the front.  After a few minutes the brown dog started to get bored with me and turned away.  Reaching for the door in order to close it was apparently interesting and the dog returned to it's post - keeping me pinned to my spot.  I did not know where the black dog had disappeared to so my imagination convinced me it was waiting just around the corner of the car to rip my throat out.

I was NOT having fun. 

I eventually managed to get the door closed but found I was in quite an awkward position, in a tiny space, surrounded by parcels and my feet in the air. But at least I was safe.  I moved packages around and shifted my weight, eventually getting on my hands and knees.  I crawled through the inside of the SUV to the front but still had to get over the two front seats - with ridiculously high head rests and a ridiculously skinny gap between the drivers seat and passenger seat.  I am very glad it is unlikely I was being filmed.  Nothing about my climb through the car was graceful or dignified.  These people did not get their parcels today and I don't care.

On another seasonal note, Peter roasted a turkey today.  She... I mean IT is very delicious.

Peter has never cooked a turkey before. But that's not what makes this note worthy.  This turkey is a natural, free range bird.  Acquired from the people that had Rosie.  I was told that Rosie has gone to live in Palm Springs and is happily enjoying the weather there.  I was told that this is not Rosie.

I choose to believe.

Going Postal

I have been a USPS employee nearly a year now.  In the past month I've worked a lot of hours and I don't like it.  When I hired on I agreed to one day a week.  Budget being what it is, reality tells me that 2 days a week is a much better fit for my bill payment schedule. So I have willingly agreed to two days a week.  However, there has been one "crisis" after another since May which has meant more hours for me.  If I don't work - my coworkers - who I really like - have to pull double shifts.  I don't want to do that to them.  So I've been a postal slave.  I'm tired and I'm cranky and I'm ready to go postal and now totally understand the term.

I really want to post these tips to FaceBook - but I am friends with my coworkers, who are friends with people and so on and someone high up in the postal system might see my words and fire me.  (not the worst thing that could happen - but still....)  There is a much lower chance that anybody from there reads this and yet I can still vent.

If you get mail to your house:

• Pick it up!!  
• If your postal carrier can get your mail there every day, in the rain and the wind and the blazing sun you can wander out the 25 feet to your mailbox and pick it up at least every other day.  If your box is full to overflowing she either has to stand there trying to cram one more piece of mail in, or she has to take time to pull out all your mail, bundle it up and leave a note that your box is full and you must come to the post office to pick it up - which will probably make you cranky as well.  Either way - it takes time she doesn't have.  
• Don't send your children to get the mail from the carrier.
• First - it's against the rules to give it to them.  Second - it's dangerous.  Mail trucks are bigger than children.  They can get squished. 
• Keep your dog away from me unless I indicate I am interested in meeting your dog.  
• I love dogs.  Love them.  But dogs don't always like mail carriers.  If I get bit the USPS considers it my fault and I can get fired.  Really.   I admit - I can't resist puppies.  I'm a sucker.  But I've been met at a mailbox by a child with a big snarling dog she couldn't control.  I backed up to the truck and told her I would not deliver her mail if she and the dog didn't leave.  I'm sure I'm now considered the cranky mail lady but I don't care.  
• If there is anyway to avoid it don't park in front of the mailbox.
• I know there are times when you can't help it but if you can not do it, don't do it. If you HAVE to park in front of the mail box, leave enough room for your carrier to get between the car and the mailbox.  The other day I had to almost sit on the hood of a car in order to get myself to the box.  I'm certain the owner of that car would complain loudly about butt prints or accidental scrapes should I cause damage.  I'd really rather not touch your dirty car, and I'd certainly like to not be responsible for a scratch or dent on your precious vehicle.
• Teach your children not to play around mail trucks. 
• A few weeks ago I had a 7 year old following the truck on his bicycle.  I stopped, he didn't and he slammed into the back of my truck.  Fortunately he wasn't seriously hurt and we both learned a lesson.  Now I scream hysterically at all children within 500 feet of the truck:  "KEEP AWAY FROM ME!!!!!"   (not really but I thought it sounded dramatic..)
• If your mail is in a cluster box - pick it up - and pick up your parcels too!!
• Again, your carrier has to try to cram more mail in your mailbox - but at a cluster box, she is also trying NOT to drop everyone else's mail.  Her arms are full and if it's raining she has no place to put the other mail down while she tries to fit more mail in your box and protect all the mail from getting soaking wet, using her body as a shield.  Pick it up!  If your cluster box has a parcel locker and you don't pick up your parcel - that locker is not available for your neighbor.  If we get to the box and there is no room for a parcel - we often have to walk back to the house (or u-turn and drive back) which takes time and we leave the parcel on the porch - a potential security risk.  Be thoughtful of your neighbors.
• Don't over share... and put on a stupid shirt  (unless you are truly awesome shirtless - then I don't mind so much)
• Yes, I've been regaled with stories you wouldn't believe by shirtless, pot bellied men.  I've been told stories by women who must think I'm their therapist.  Absolutely say hi, be friendly, but until we know each other well enough to go out and have a drink or too, please don't tell me about your impotence or marital problems.
• Teach your children not to tell strangers (even the mail "man") that they are home alone. 
• I've gone to houses with certified letters only to have a child say they were home alone.  I always take the opportunity to tell them not to tell me that!  Maybe it's because I'm in a small town but it just doesn't make sense to me.  Safety first!
• Don't ask us to not deliver "junk" mail.
• We can't censor your mail, and that is what it amounts to.  Absolutely feel free to complain to us about it.  I totally get it and I'm there with you.  But I get paid to deliver it and I have to. If you really don't want the mail you get, contact the sender or get yourself on the "no junk mail" list.  However - keep in mind that junk mail pays our wages.  Without it, we don't get paid - or worse, rates would have to go up in order to pay us.
• Don't point out how late your carrier is.
• She knows.  She's quite possibly nearly sick to her stomach over how late she is.  I have to be back to the office by 5:30.  Period.  The out going mail is picked up at 5:30 and if I miss the 5:30 pick up the boss has to drive the outgoing mail to Bellingham or worse, all the way to Seattle.  I have had to abandon mail delivery, finish the route just picking up out going mail, get it back to the post office and then go finish delivering mail. It's not fun and I often am on the verge of tears by the time I'm nearing the end.  Please don't make me cry.

Those are my complaints and tips and I feel better having vented.   Now - here are some helpful tips

• Wave!  We like to wave.  We are in your neighborhood every day.  We know a lot about your lives (even when you don't over share)  We know when you refinance your house, when a significant other moves out, or moves in.  We know when your children are preparing for college, we know when you are getting married.  We know your patterns.  We might be the first one to discover a problem, or a burglar.  We are trustworthy and we care about you.  If you pick up your mail every day - and all of a sudden you don't - and you live alone we get worried and we come and knock on your door.
• Go ahead and chat with us.  It's part of what I enjoy about this job.. but if I'm running late, which you kindly don't point out, don't hold me prisoner.  Let me get going.
• On a really hot day, I mean, sweltering, sidewalk egg-frying, sun-burning, forest fire days, leave a bottle of ice water in the mail box.  That would be delightful!

I'm done now and I feel better.  Have a lovely day!

I enjoyed work today.

But don't tell anyone!

After all the complaining and moaning and groaning I've done I'm loathe to admit it, but today was fun.  Today was the first day I drove a for-real rural route.  My regular route, and the other one I'm trained on are called rural routes but they are in new subdivisions (that most certainly were farmland not that long ago).  I drive from neighborhood mail box unit to neighborhood mail box unit.  Because the Post Office likes to have  all their substitute carriers cross-trained on all the routes I was forced into training and delivering on this route this week, Taking a third of it each day.  This route is 28 miles long.  The first two days I was delivering in subdivisions but today I took to the open countryside.

The weather wasn't REALLY nice today but the rain held off and I got to take a drive in the country.  I delivered mail to dairy farms and blueberry farms and assorted other farms.  I even delivered mail to my own house!  I saw horses and sheep and cows.  Lots of cows.  I saw one cow licking it's newborn calf.  I had to stop the mail truck and admire the spectacle.  I talked to the cows and horses too ~ but they didn't talk back.  Too bad, I bet they'd have fascinating stories to tell.

For those of you who don't know how close to the border I really am.  I delivered mail to this mail box today:

The road on the right is in Canada, the one on the left is in the US.  Only a ditch separates the two.  Don't get any ideas though - there are cameras all up and down this stretch of the border to keep out those pesky aliens!  I even delivered to the border crossing station.  They certainly seem to be more pleasant to the mail carrier than they are to travelers...

The one bad part about this route is that a portion of the rural part is on a busy highway with speeds around 50 miles an hour.  It is two lanes and has no shoulders, with ditches next to the highway.  One wrong move and... SPLASH!    It was a little nerve wracking to be stopping to deliver mail along that stretch.  There was no way possible to completely get off the road.  I just kept hoping people were paying attention to the little mail truck with flashing strobe lights.

I may be a quitter.

There was a day when I would get mad at my boss and threaten to quit, or at least I would run a scene through my head where I stand on a desk and sing that famous song by Johnny Paycheck, "Take this job and shove it.."  Those were always momentary urges that passed fairly quickly.

This new job has me wanting to quit every single day.  I just hate it.  I dread going to work and I seem to be living on excedrine.  Thank goodness they've started production on that again.

After that day that I cried I actually managed to complete my route by myself the very next time I took it out.  This event was celebrated by all my co workers as it was apparently quite a remarkable feat to be accomplished so early in a postal career.  My boss thought it was so swell he immediately started cross-training me on a second route.  That week I worked about 47 hours.  When I was hired I was told they would give me several months to learn my primary route before they exposed me to another.  Apparently if you show an apptitude they take advantage of you.   The first day I took the full load of the second route I was virtually abandoned out there.  It rained - but I had rain gear.  It was dark - but I had TWO headlamps.  I was trying to find mailboxes and houses in the dark, in the rain on a route I hadn't ever travelled before on streets I had never seen before in my life.  Someone finally became available to come and assist me and I still didn't get done until 7:30 p.m.  This time I didn't cry - I was just angry.  Really angry.  Not that it did any good.

This week they have me scheduled for at least 40 hours as well as working Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve.  There go my plans to see my kids over the holidays.  I'm angry again.  I don't like to be angry and I seem to be spending way too much energy controlling it.

This is not what I signed up for.  I don't want to work full time.  I don't want to work holidays.  I want to spend time with my children.  I want to spend time knitting and spinning and weaving and playing with my animals.  I want to, and I'm happy to, work a day a week.  I can even manage 2 days a week with a smile.  4 and 5 days a week make me want to belt out that Johnny Paycheck song at the top of my lungs while standing on top of my LLV.

I really like my co-workers and I even kinda like my bosses.   I hate to leave them in a lurch.  It's the hours and the job itself that make me cranky.  I guess I need to make a decision.

Now.. for something a little lighter:

I cried.

I was sure I was made of tougher stuff. But apparently I'm not.  I like to think there are extenuating circumstances to my outburst.  Here's what happened.

My carrier (the one I sub for) had a family crisis and had to leave in the middle of her route yesterday.  I took over where she left off and with the help of two others we managed to get it done.  I was "on-call" for today as we just weren't sure the outcome of her crisis.

I didn't sleep well - expecting to be called and I woke early with the beginnings of a migraine.  Despite excedrine, my head pounded and quality sleep eluded me from 3:00 to 6:00 and completely eluded me after that. When 7:00 a.m. rolled around without a phone call I figured all was well and I could relax and perhaps tend to my aching head.  At 7:10 my new boss phoned and put me to work.  I took enough time to dress, shove two more excedrine in my pocket and grab a cup of coffee.  I was there by 7:30.  Terri (another carrier) was already sorting my mail.  Together we got all my mail done and packages sorted and I was out on the route by 1:00.  Terri had sorted my packages into "the beginning," "the middle," and "the end" of the route for me.

My head continued to throb so I reached into my pocket for my spare excedrine.  Yikes!  They were gone!  Apparent casualties of the chaos.  I would have to continue with a knife stabbing me in my skull.

Then the rain started.  It poured buckets.  My rain coat, admittedly more of a fashion statement than a utilitarian one, quickly became useless.

Quick recap.  My head was pounding and I was soaked to the bone.  My reading glasses were speckled with rain and I had to strain to see through them - which did not help the headache.  The windshield wipers were doing this horrible SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK that was almost more than I could take.

I was making the rounds in a mostly timely manner by the time I got to the middle of the route.  What should I find but a bunch of parcels from the beginning of the route.  Apparently Terri's idea of beginning/middle/end didn't match mine.  My fault.  I really should have clarified her interpretation of those terms.  So I had to go back and deliver missed parcels.

By the time I got back to the middle of the route the darkness was beginning to creep in and reinforcements were sent my way.  Frank showed up and took part of the end of the route.  I plodded on.  I missed some mailboxes (because they were on the opposite side of the road - a rare, but real event) I was circling back when Terri found me.  She took another portion of the end of the route.  I did a few more deliveries when Tim showed up.  We divvied up what was left, he gave me clear directions on where to go next and off he went.

I missed the turn, had to go round again.  Found where I was going, back tracked to deliver two packages on Elm street.  People should have their house number CLEARLY placed. I walked/trotted/ran up and down Elm with my packages trying to find the houses.  I found one and finally found the other.  It's numbers were facing in. . .  like toward their living room window.  I suppose it helps them to know where they live but it would be totally useless to ambulances, firefighters and mail carriers.  By now darkness had completely overtaken and I went to the last set of mailboxes on Elm.  Fortunately there was a street light overhead.  Unfortunately, the mail I had in my hand did not match the addresses in the box.  I did not know what to do.  I just sat there in my mail truck staring at my mail.  Staring back at the mailbox. Then back at the mail again.

By this point I had been on the move for 10 hours.  No breaks.  No lunch.  No food.  I had managed one bathroom break.  My head pounded.  I was soaked.  I was cold.  I was hungry and I had to pee.  Tears threatened but I held them at bay.

I finally decided I would just skip that box and have one of my helpers help me sort it out.  I went on to the next set of mailboxes.  This time there was no street light.  I stood there looking at the contents of the mailbox.  It looked something like this:

The mail I had in my hand looked similar.

I just stood there and the tears began to trickle for real.  I couldn't stop them. Fortunately they blended  with the rain dripping down my face so it was hard to tell.  About that time Tim showed up, like the Cavalry ready to save the day. Which he did.  He took pity on me.  Assured me that it was all okay, no one expected miracles from me and what I managed to contribute was a big help and then he took everything I had left and sent me back to the barn.  He promised he wouldn't tell anyone I cried.  I hope not.  It's a secret.

Work work work work..

I'm winding up my third week of training.  On Thursday I take my route out all on my own.  The full monte.  I'm more than a bit frightened.  Yesterday I took just under 1/2 the mail out and didn't get back to the post office until after 5:00 pm.  I  can't imagine how long it's going to take to do the whole thing.  Thank goodness the mail vehicle has headlights and I have a GPS on my phone.

One day of training was in Seattle.  I had to get up at 3:00 a.m. to make a 7:00 am class there.  That was bad but what made it worse was that the afternoon portion was spent driving around Seattle traffic in a right hand drive vehicle.  Seattle-ites beware - this goes on almost daily there.  Yikes!

One of the things I'm coming to terms with is the pay.  I worked for two weeks, 6 days a week.  I worked hard learning and training and practicing and doing actual work.  If you take my wage and deduct the unemployment payments I lost because I was working I made about $13.00 a week.  I just can't completely buy into this being a good idea.  Perhaps I'll be more enthusiastic once I get at least a portion of my unemployment back and I'm not working for free.

My routine with this new life has been get up, go to work, come home and collapse, too tired to move.  I fall asleep on the sofa well before bedtime.  Here is were I publicly say THANK YOU DEAR HUSBAND for taking care of me, the alpacas, the house, the dog, the cats.  THANK YOU DEAR HUSBAND for taking care of the opossum under the house.  THANK YOU for making dinner and doing the grocery shopping and making coffee on those early mornings.  THANK YOU for being there for me.

My great plan is that next week I'll have time to bake cookies, make pasta, knit, spin, weave, grocery shop, make dinner, clean the alpaca stall, vacuum, do dishes, do laundry, scrub the tub, clean the toilets, chop wood, rake leaves...  Hmm.. maybe working for $13.00 a week isn't such a bad deal.

(are you happy now Andrew?)

I have finished my second day of training with the USPS.  Today I got up before 6:00 am to make it to the training site by 8:00.  It was raining and it was dark.  It's been more than a year since I've had to do anything so horrific.

Training has gone fairly well so far.  There are 8 of us in the class.  I sit in the front row.  Not that I'm a kiss-up or anything.  I just want to get the most of out the class that I can.  Really.  On the first day I quickly became the teacher's pet when the projector connected to her computer wouldn't work.  She fiddled with it for 15 minutes and it was all I could do to sit there and watch without butting in.  Seriously.  I had a knot in my stomach while I watched her.  The sound would not work and to fix it she turned off the projector.  And still I sat there.  Arrghh.  She finally looked up from the equipment and asked if anyone knew how it worked.  I jumped at the opportunity and had it working in less than a minute.  All I did was press the "pc" button on the projector to tell it to connect.  Nothing technical at all.

Later she gave her computer password to her boss so that he could access her e-mail while she was gone.  The ex-network administrator in me almost exploded.  To make it worse she was making fun of my reaction today and gave ME her password.  This caused me great stress.  Also today I got a finger waggle and she said like me, she used to be loud and controlling - in a good way.  Harumph.

Despite the antics I managed to learn a lot.  That's good because there is a surprisingly lot to learn.  Our instructor says the job is hard and she guarantees that at some point we'll cry.  She even pointed to the one male in our class (an ex-military fellow) and promised that even he would cry.  I wonder.  I understand there is stress and the job is hard but I just don't believe that it can be more stressful or frustrating than it was to sit in the middle of a computer room floor at 5:00 in the morning with the main server in pieces around you, the clock ticking, having not slept in 22 hours, knowing that in a few more hours the first of 300 people are coming into the office expecting to turn on their computers and access their files... I cried then.  I think it's all perspective.

I still have a long way to go before I get to actually begin working.

Tomorrow I attend a 1/2 day of driver training on one of these:

I take a test in Seattle on Thursday.  Saturday I do a "ride-along".  Next week I have 3 days of  "Rural Academy" followed by several days of on the job training.  Somewhere around mid-November I get to actually go out on my own and the crying can commence.

Job Interviews. Past and present

I had a job interview today.  It was with the USPS as a part time rural mail carrier.  I wanted to look professional and stable.  I wore black slacks, white shirt, black pearl earrings and a black and white cardigan.  Very boring.  Not me at all. However I finished the look with my lucky shoes:

Before I share the result of this interview I must share the story of an interview I went on about 12 years ago.

At the time I was working for the State of Oregon and was looking to stay within the state retirement system but get closer to my home in Vancouver, WA.  I wanted to shorten my existing 3 hour round trip commute.  I EXCLUSIVELY scoured the State of Washington job listings.  As luck would have it I found an opening about 20 minutes from home at the Larch Mountain Correctional Facility in their Network maintenance department.  I applied and was scheduled for an interview in mid-April.

It was a beautiful spring day and I dressed in a lovely linen dress and modest heels  (this becomes important later in the story.) 

I began my drive up the mountain - as this correctional facillity was at the TOP of the mountain.  The clouds gathered.  I arrived at my destination just as the snow began.  As I waited in the hiring office for my appointment the snow began to accumulate on the ground.  The interviewer showed up 15 minutes late and introduced himself explaining that we were going to be conducting the interview in the brand new, still under construction, computer room and we headed across the snowy parking lot.  He was dressed in a suit and tie, I in my short sleeve linen dress and heels.  He walked fast, the parking lot was gravel.  I stumbled and wobbled as we crossed.  I twisted my ankle.  We were almost at our destination when someone stopped him and started a conversation.  So we stood there, in the snow while they chatted incessantly about who knows what.  I began to shiver.  My shoes and dress were getting soaked.  My lovely hairdo began to droop and drip.

We finally arrived at the "new" computer room.  It was a partially renovated mobile home.  We got inside and all the doors were propped open because the smell of the newly painted walls was overwhelming.  It was not really warmer in this building than out of it.  The room was empty, except for a card table and four chairs.  Our voices echoed.  I was asked a few questions and then handed a written test.  While I took the test, shivering and getting light headed from the paint fumes my captors, uh, I mean interviewers, stood in the open doorway smoking cigarettes - which mingled with the smell of the paint creating a fine stench.  When I finished the test the real interview began.  One of the first questions was "How did you hear about this job?"  My answer:  "the Washington State job website."  His reply: "That's not possible - we didn't advertise there."

My patience was completely gone and my hackles were up.  No one should be treated with the complete disregard that I had been subjected to.  I didn't want the job that bad - if at all by that point.  A heated discussion ensued where I finished with a "you are wrong because that's the only place I looked for a job so it had to be there."  Then I believe I implied they were idiots and I left. 

Needless to say I didn't get offered the job.  Perhaps if I'd worn my lucky shoes things would have turned out differently.  I'm still scarred by that interview.

Today I did not argue with anyone.  It was a very good interview.  I was not offered the job but it was made clear it's mine as soon as I take (and pass) the drug and background checks.  Now that I have a job in my sights, I'm just not sure I want it.  Part of me hates to give up the freedom of not working.  Of course, that freedom will be seriously curtailed when my unemployment runs out.  My schedule would include working the days around Christmas and Thanksgiving so senior staff can have days off.  I would be working more Saturdays than not.  Good news is I'd have every holiday and every Sunday off.  It's good pay and in a year I would be eligible to move up the ladder and begin requesting specific days off or on.

Ahhh.. decisions decisions..