Those pesky lines at the post office

I live in a small town - but it's big enough to have a post office. Having local offices is a wonderful thing. I hope the postal system doesn’t decide to streamline like the state of Indiana did in closing our license branch.

So ... today I need to mail an oversize envelope and don’t know how much it will cost. I head to the post office. And what do I find there but a line! Right there in the post office in the middle of the day. Can you believe such a thing?

There is one postal worker taking care of two customers. There is a woman standing to the side whose conversation with the postal worker has apparently been interrupted by the intrusion of customers. There are two more customers waiting their turn. I join them. That makes seven of us all together. I can name three of my six companions, including the employee. The loiterer has a familiar face but I can’t come up with a name.

As we wait, the postal worker pauses to look us over and says, “I sit here for an hour with no one and then you all come at once. I swear that people get on their phones and plan these things.” We all pleasantly agree that such a thing is not beyond us. I mention that I sometimes tell the checkout people at the grocery store that we customers conspire back in the frozen food aisle so that we can all head to the registers at the same time.

By this time, the two front customers are leaving and the next person steps forward. The lady now at the counter comments that the parking lot at the grocery store is typically full when she arrives and empty when she comes back out. The postal worker reports that she went to the store for a dozen eggs yesterday and they cost $24.95. Yep, I can identify with that. That’s about what it costs me to go in for a gallon of milk.

It was the chocolate milk that was on sale that was part of the problem, she says. Hmm... milk is on sale this week? I make a mental note.

The door opens and closes, admitting a local businessman and a woman I presume to be his wife - an Old Order Amish couple. (How is it that in 28 years of dealing with this family business, I don’t remember ever seeing his wife before?) He looks at the crowd and expresses the opinion that such a line can only be caused by a lack of efficiency. I look at the busy postal worker and say, “It’s a good thing she didn’t hear that.” His response is quick. “I’d say it to her face.” As a twinkle comes into his eyes, the image of another younger face comes into my mind. His grandson! I had never noticed a resemblance between them. But there it is, that same little smirk. I consider commenting on what I have just noticed but my slow wit combines with remembering the report that the grandson and his young family have been “shunned” for nonconformance to the Amish lifestyle to shut my mouth. His wife fills the silence, reminding him that he has a business and that she has sometimes seen lines there.

The door opens and closes. One customer leaves, another comes in. The loiterer gives up on whatever conversation she had been having before the pace quickened and tells the postal worker she'll catch her later. I am now on deck for service but still part of the stand-by group.

I say to the newcomer: “If I’d known I’d see you here, I would have brought your pictures from the library.”

She responds: “I almost stopped by after you closed to see if anyone was still there.”

We then discuss the charming old photos of her parents as children which she left at the library this morning to have copied.

Meanwhile, another postal worker comes in, perhaps returning from a late lunch. The customer ahead of me has been served but is still gathering her paperwork. Both workers now offer me service. I hesitate and choose the new line. As I hand over my envelope, I hear an argument behind me about who should be next. The businessman insists that he has more business to transact and should give up his place. The newcomer insists that she is in no hurry and will wait her turn. She wins and the businessman takes his place beside me and lays down his parcel.

“I need you to clear up a little point of contention," he says. “Aren’t I always nice in here?”

“Oh, yes. Always,” the workers respond with maybe a hint of sarcasm. As he turns in triumph to his wife, one of the workers tells her, “You must be a saint!” The other points out that he is completely outnumbered by the five women present and should be careful what he says about women. (Is there maybe some history between these people?)

My envelope is weighed and the postage computed. As I walk out the door, there is no longer a line at the post office. Man, it can really ruin a day to have to stand in a long line like that. I can see why people complain so much about it.

Or not. A nice warm break on a cold day with friendly, smiling people and light banter in a nice little post office in a nice little town. What’s not to like? These are "the good old days".