(note: sorry this is so long, but sometimes blogs are about getting views out there and off our chest, right?)
I am so lucky to live in Gladstone. Not that Peapack isn’t just as pretty and the people are very nice. But by living in Gladstone I do not need to frequent what I now view as one of the most contentious, unfriendly and miserable places called the US Post Office. Yes. I used to view the post office – and especially the one in our small town – as one of the last pieces of Americana. Just a traditional, friendly little place to pop in, do your business, take a candy and leave with a mutual, “have a nice day” (especially from two very nice women in Gladstone). Maybe today it is the heat and humidity, lunchtime hunger, or maybe it’s that the US Post Office has become a marketing haven where consumers (postal patrons) need to know their ‘flat rate’ from ‘priority’ and ‘certified’ from ‘confirmation’ or risk postal robbery. Yes, the price of stamps keeps rising, but I never took issue. .32, .41 and now I don’t even know what still seems reasonable to take a letter from East to West coast.
But packages, as I experienced today, are a whole other ball of wax. I walked into the Peapack post office today (after camp with a hungry 4 year old in tow) to mail three packages to friends in CO that just had babies. Of course, I didn’t think of the challenge in finding the right size box when I stacked the gifts under ribbon, but there are so many box options, I knew I would find something. Not today. I could either use a flat rate priority box for $8 or buy a box. Nothing in between except flimsy tyvek envelopes. I looked high and low and finally asked about the other boxes. I guess no one else had mailed boxes or just took the flat rate like the high price of gas, but it took searching and a phone call to realize, “we’re out of the other boxes”. Out?? It’s the post office. It’s an option on the menu. This is like walking into McDonalds, looking at the menu on the wall and being told, sorry, no fries today only the McFish. Come on. No boxes? He cited back-order issues, inventory and all other words intended to make me fog over, forget it and turn to the more expensive options. Nope. I packed up the gifts and headed to the Gladstone post office.
Have you ever seen a detour on the highway and thought, “hmmm maybe I’ll cut off here and take a side road that I think will be faster?” Right, the Gladstone P.O. was big mistake. They did have more box options and the one I needed, but I encountered such a strong customer service and personality issue that I, in my own manner, went postal. My first mistake was to mention the lack of boxes in Peapack. Maybe postal workers sign a pact to not throw colleagues under the bus and I wouldn’t expect her to do exactly that, but compassion and solutions are my ideas of great customer service. Maybe she is actually the inventory manager for the P-G offices. I don’t know, but I got a lesson on why I shouldn’t expect to see the boxes that correlate to the wide-range of services offered by the USPS. Still confused, I attempted to ask a few more questions, and provide comment. It was getting hotter inside than out. Then, when one of my packages wouldn’t fit (a baby gift, tied in ribbon, to a good friend but a gesture nonetheless) she suggested I take the package apart and just put all the pieces in a box. It’s a gift! “Whoever gets it will understand,” she said. Yeah, they'll get that I just threw pieces and parts in a box and called it a gift?? Then, I had the panic that I might need to take a bullet for my son who piped up with, “hey mom, you could just put tape over the holes in the plastic bag (the Target bag I carried into the post office) and mail it that way.” At that, I stuffed the oversized package back in the Target bag, paid for the others and left. It was a losing battle. Please, if I’m ever given authority such as an ear phone, uniform or a job behind a counter, don’t ever let the power go to my head. From now on, I will shop online, mail online and maybe even order my stamps online just to save myself from the aggravation of visiting the United States Postal Service.
One of several robin nests found in the yard
A hungry mouth to feed
Carpenter bee off to find a tasty facia board
Who knew they were so fuzzy
A bluebird box...
...before Mr. Treefrog moved in
Breakfast at the bird feeder
Resident alien
Still waiting for this year's brood of piglets
