Monday, June 25, 2018

The mail in the dumpster

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  1. On Thursday, June 21 around noon-ish, I was standing at the lobby elevator, facing the mailroom. I could see that I could go in and get my mail soon because the mailman was done and about to leave. However, I couldn't find him. His cart was there, unattended, and containing some pieces of mail which he had picked up. I even saw a large envelope of mine. 
  2. In a moment or two, I saw the mailman emerge from our apartment's loading dock, which is where the dumpster is. A mailman would have no reason to be there. He had a strange look on his face when he saw me. Then he left.
  3. I went upstairs to my apartment and got my granny cart and my grabber, went back downstairs and straight to the loading dock. In the dumpster was a pile of mail. I retrieved what I could, which was about thirty pieces, and was about 2/3 of what was there. 
  4. On Monday I took pics and videos of all of it. Then I organized the mail into two bags: one with mail addressed to our building; the other with mail addressed to other addresses in Jersey City. One was a warning about a recall from Honda. Another was a mailing about a class-action suit. Yet another was Time Magazine.
  5. Then I headed to the main Post Office on Montgomery Avenue in Jersey City and asked to see the postmaster.
  6. The woman at the window said I could only see him by appointment, and only by calling his secretary.
  7. So I left the post office, with all the mail, and called from outside. I got a voicemail saying the postmaster was not in, so I left a message.
  8. Then while shopping, I got a callback from the secretary. Her first words were a complaint that I hadn't left my name or any information about why I had called. I told her I'm afraid of the mailman.
  9. She insisted I had to give my name and asked me what it was about so I told her. Then she told me she couldn't make an appointment for me because the postmaster was away. 
  10. So I asked her what to do with all the mail. She told me to come to the post office and ask for the manager. Then she changed her mind and told me to go to Window 2.
  11. So I waited twenty minutes at Window 2. When I gave the woman the mail and told her the story, she was horrifed.
  12. I have no idea if I'm ever going to see the postmaster. I'm also worried about seeing the mailman.

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If you would like to know more about a group of Pythonistas who share thoughts, ideas, fixes, and a sense of courteous community, look to Dan Bader, who started it all. He also offers free tips by email. Oh, and if you take an interest in good marketing writing, read his stuff for that reason too. 

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