My first job
with the US Government was with the Post Office. When I was in College in my
freshman year I looked forward to Christmas break. Reading the Boston Globe I
saw an ad from the Post Office looking for temporary help to deal with the
extra influx of mail expected during the holidays. The job was in Southie so I
applied. My instructions said I would be sorting mail which meant a good
knowledge of the streets On arrival I was faced with a large stack of addressed
mail which had to be placed in certain “pigeon holds.” If I got it right I had the job.
I wasn’t
worried. My strategy was to put the ones I knew quickly in place, those I
didn’t know were set aside. Time was called and my work checked. !00 percent
correct. The job was mine. I was told to come back and the Postmaster would
assign me my location. When I returned I recognized him as my neighbor from
when I lived on West Fifth Street. He didn’t remember me but he did know the
family name. We chatted a while and he brought me up to date as to who still
lived there and who had left.
He asked if
I would like to deliver mail rather than sorting. That was fine with me. He
gave me a route that ended at my home. In those days, the 1950’s there were 2
deliveries a day. I finished my morning route just in time for lunch. I killed a
couple of hours and returned to finish the afternoon deliveries in time for
dinner. It couldn’t be any better. The moral to this story is be kind to your
neighbors because “you never know.”
