What on Earth has happened to my Post Office? America’s finest news source, “The Onion” has published an article about my Alma mater, and thanks to it, I’ll be walking around for the next month or so with a paper bag over my head. I don’t embarrass easily, but I can tell you, this post is a head-banger.
For those of you who would care to read this back-slapper, follow this link, but for those who would prefer just the high points, read on and try to maintain some dignity by resisting the urge to stick a finger in the eye of your hometown postal employees. They are not the problem. I repeat, the hard workers that apparently were overlooked in this shameful display of bravado are not the problem!
Postmaster General Patrick R. Donahoe popped a champagne cork in celebration of…..”once again delivering all 584 million pieces of the day’s mail to their proper destinations.”
Huh? Uh, isn’t that what the USPS is supposed to do? Jeez, when I was a postmaster, that was my main task. You know, getting the mail delivered accurately. Granted, I didn’t have 584 million pieces to deliver, although some days it seemed like it, and in all honesty, it wasn’t all that unusual to get a piece back every few days that was misdelivered. One question I have is, how the hell would he know about the accuracy of all that mail?
Okay, let’s let that sleeping dog lie, and move on to some quotes directly from the article and from the big guy himself..
“…confetti and balloons fell from the ceiling of USPS’s Washington headquarters and joyous employees cartwheeled in unison through the hallways.”
Cartwheels? Was OSHA notified of this? The only cartwheel I ever wanted to do while an employee was on my way out the door for the last time.
“You can put another great day of delivering mail in the books, fellas!” said the jubilant postmaster general, who was greeted with thunderous applause and random cheers of “No mail is junk mail!” by his employees. “We sorted, we accumulated, we delivered. And you know what? We did it together. I love you guys!”
Careful there, Pat, you’ll end up with a sexual harrassment suit.
“Everyone in America got their magazines!” added Donahoe, who was then hoisted onto the shoulders of several D.C. postmen and carried into the courtyard where a 20-piece orchestra was playing “Signed, Sealed, Delivered.”
At this point, as horns of delivery trucks were honking and the USPS air fleet tipped their wings mid-flight (I swear that’s what the article says), Mister Big called up the “Big Board.” to check on the rest of the country’s progress.
“Let’s check in on Broomfield!” Donahoe shouted as the screen cut to a small post office in Colorado, whose champagne-drenched mailmen were once again unfurling their giant “You Asked, We Delivered!” banner. “You’re the best, Broomfield. And now let’s kick it to Omaha! Nice! Good stuff from the Cornhusker State. And now Kansas City! And Dallas! And Salt Lake City! Ladies and gentlemen, the mail carriers of Cincinnati, Ohio!”
It also seems a quarter-mile-long conga line of postal workers appeared in New Jersey, Tampa tossed some mailmen in the air with a giant blanket, and New Mexico workers had some fireworks and carnival games, but fear not! No one was injured during the celebrations. Are your eyes bleeding yet?
I guess I just don’t get it. I always thought of myself as a public servant, hired to do a job and making damn good money to do it. I never expected nor did I want champagne and conga lines in celebration of my offices getting mail delivered to where it belonged. Call me crazy, but the big guy reminded me of Howard Dean screaming like a girl, and we all know where he ended up. If this guy thinks the USPS has anything to celebrate at this place in time, he desperately needs a reality check. By the way, no mention was made of what this idiotic stunt across the country cost, or if the joyous participants were on the clock while taking champagne showers.
So again, I ask the question, “What the Hell is wrong with these people?” Donahoe’s Rome is burning and he’s fiddling at the expense of every person with a mail box or a letter to mail. Nice job, Pat.
In the meantime, as Headquarters celebrates along with him, Pennsylvania resident Debbie Lustick, is wondering where her package is, the one that she should have received last Thursday. Maybe she should ask Nero.