mail of a tale

Today I finally finished my side of the wedding thank yous—I know, big day. For those of you who haven’t been through this process, slapping the stamp on that last one is the most liberating, wonderful feeling, let me tell you (especially when you’re like me and think you have to have a novel’s worth of writing on there to make it more personal…I realize later these are all just going in the trash—it’s the thought that counts though right?).

Anyway, happy little me runs home on my lunch break to see Parker and give him my bundle of thank yous to add to the pile going to the post office. When I pull up I see the mailman parked right in front of me. Happy day! I scurry to pull the cards out of my purse and just as I’m about to get out of the car to run them over to him I hear his engine start up. Noooooooo……

In a panic I press on my horn just once and swing my door open to run up to his window. He whips out of his truck and meets me in the middle (it’s 10 feet mind you and I was going to take it all the way to him). As he’s approaching I call out in my sweetest little bank teller voice “I am so sorry sir. Is there any way I can send these off with you before you go? I’ve been trying all week…”

Before I can finish my sentence the wild-eyed mailman screams, “I bet you are! (sorry I think???),” snatches the cards out of my hand, stomps the five paces back to his truck, and peels around the corner to the next neighborhood.

What on earth? I stood there wide-eyed. I’d called Parker when I pulled up to bring the rest of the thank yous up from the apartment. The mail man was long gone by the time he made it up the stairs and all that was left was speechless little me.

I deal with grumpy people every day, but since moving to Utah I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered any treatment as unwarranted as this. It seriously took me aback. I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt and say he was just having a bad day, but according to our landlady he’s just a grumpy man.

I’m not sure how people live life that way. You may hate your life or your situation, but wouldn’t you think you’d want to compensate for that by earning the respect and/or friendship of people you see on a regular basis? I think it’d be awful to live a life you hate and have everyone avoid you like the plague because they don’t like you much either.

Maybe I startled him with my little horn. Maybe it was an especially stressful day. Maybe some people in this neighborhood are prima donnas who are constantly asking him to make exceptions. Maybe he hates his job more than people at the DMV hate theirs. I don’t know. All I know is that even though he is most definitely not my favorite person right now, I plan to kill him with kindness.

Thanks Mom—you’ve taught me how time and again. Wish me luck!