Dear Mr. Mail Carrier,
I would like to remind you that the uniform you wear tells people that you do indeed deliver mail.
The truck you drive tells people you deliver mail.
It's a mail truck, stopping frequently to give and receive mail.
I had a letter to deliver, in my purse.
We were in the same place at the same time.
I politely asked if you wouldn't mind taking my letter?
Turns out you DID mind.
Minded so much that you referred me to a mail box a block and a half away, in the oppisate direction.
Yes, I do realize that I could have just slid the letter in my mailbox at home and put the flag up.
But you see you make it a point not to stop at my house until after 5PM. Which by law, I am suppose to receive my mail by 5PM. (I called, as if you didn't know. It used to be that I'd get my mail around 4:45 PM daily, except on Wednesdays. After I called and asked about timing I don't get my mail until after 5PM.)
I see you deliver mail on the other side of the street , the block behind me AND I see you sit there on the corner of my house taking your lunch hour and 30 mintues. Of course I've timed you. I'm curious as to how often I see you and yet I still don't have my mail.
Member that time I came out and asked for my mail?
You told me you wouldn't give it to me, so you began "lunching" in my son's preschool parking lot?
Yep, that was me waving at you.
From the time I've lived here, I've lefted treats for you on holidays.
You've left me nasty notes about removing snow from our box and threating not to deliver my mail. Have you noticed that I live on a Bus route and the plow goes by several times in a day?
Have you noticed that I get a lot of traffic both walking and driving that I worry about leaving letters in my box ALL DAY LONG?
So today, at the golf store I saw your truck, It was 10:30AM. I went in and saw you at the counter. Not with a mail bag or pile of letters, no, you were BUYING a box of golf balls and refused to take my letter. Even the guy behind the register was shocked.
You may not like me, you may feel entitled to stop on work hours to pick up a box of balls, but I'm telling you, you wear a uniform that says your JOB is to deliver the MAIL.
I had a letter, your job is to DELIVER it. Your uniform says.
If you are SO unhappy with your job, find a new one. I'm sure you'd be great as a meter maid, telling everyone they CAN'T park there, and handing out tickets. Because you sure don't like to get out of your truck, unless of course it's for balls.
I also want to remind you that if it doesn't FIT in my box you are suppose to bring it to the door, not fling it in the yard!
What a dink.
You better believe I'm watching for my flip flops...