Continuing with the scanning chronicle, I share yesterday’s anecdote.
Filled to capacity, I carried the box of precious photos labeled and addressed to all who are represented in them, into the post office for the send-off. I arrived at noon, and by 12:34 pm, not only did I walk out of a filled-to-capacity lobby, but I was filled with a bit of frustration and glee.
Usually, I go to Kevin’s line, because he is friendly, efficient and intelligent. Sadly for me, Kevin was working on a teenager’s passport and unavailable. So I stepped up to his unknown colleague’s station, he had no name tag, and quickly and silently named him “cigarette smoker man.” To say he editorialized every envelope aloud, measured each envelope (they are all the same size!), and commented on the number of envelopes, is an understatement. I wanted to exclaim, “Sir, please just do your job and stop your snide comments!” But I held my tongue in frustration.
In those priceless envelopes are my memories, experiences, friends, beloved departed family members, and even departed friends. To me, they deserved special handling. After all, I’m paying money to send them. Glee did cross my mind at the task completed.
They are now in the hands of the USPS. The only photos remaining are from the 1950s when my parents were kids, the 1970s when I was a kid, and the 1980s when I was in college. Those will be scanned and sent out within the next month.
Value has different meanings: the envelopes are a task to the USPS clerk, while they are priceless history to me. The proof of value will be in the hands of the recipients “in 3-5 days, he said.” The project has concluded. I learned many valuable lessons, none of which is to disrespect or disregard another person’s mailings.