Postal Tales

I am a frequent postal patron of the after hours kind. Legitimate reasons exist but they do not matter here and now. On a recent early morning visit to my local PO, when the morning sun barely had risen, I raced into my local post office with the intent of a postal hit-and-run. The plan was to use the self-service equipment to get some postage slapped on my package then rush onward to the demands of the day. But noooooo (said in slo-mo delivery). The post office had changed its evening and weekend hours recently and I had not yet become aware. There had been a string of after-hours break-ins of those PO boxes that many people prefer over home delivery mail service.

So said the genuinely friendly fellow who came in the door shortly behind me having a similar singular agenda that morning. Get in-get out. Done. Mission accomplished. As friendly and as conversational as this guy was, he too was in a hurry—on a mission. Deciding to be uber helpful he anxiously began to tell me what buttons on the touch screen I needed to press. Thank you kind sir—Not helpful.

I held my postal ground as cool as a cucumber and continued on my own trajectory and at my own pace. He tried hard to keep up the friendly facade and banter but it got neither him nor me anywhere any faster. Thank you, kind sir. When you know what you’re doing and someone “helpful“ comes along with honest intent that is yet shaded by their own agenda, it can have the opposite effect, slowing down rather than accelerating things towards the desired outcome.

Note to self: being fake-helpful to others to accomplish my own agenda isn’t necessarily a crime punishable by law. But just maybe I can dial it back a notch. Oh, isn’t that called patience? Its a lovely character quality that we expect from others but don’t often perfect in our own repertoire. Hurry makes us a little bit blind to other people’s rights, situation or circumstances.

Patience is a virtue. One worth a little more practice.

So ends this installment of my postal tales.

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