Our U.S. Post Office often gets a bum rap. Yet, when I hear a story about the amount of mail that gets moved around the country and very reliably ends up where it belongs, I am astounded. And it’s still the best bargain available.
What’s more amazing is the phone call I received at 6:30 am Saturday morning. A call at that hour could not be good news. I was dead wrong. Barbara, in the Arlington, Va., post office, called to tell me I had the wrong address on a package. She said she always worries that it’s for some mother’s son and she hates to send it all the way back across the country without at least trying to find the recipient. So she searched for my phone number by doing a “reverse check" based on my return address and called me — at 6:30 a.m. Five minutes later I called her back with the correct address. She put me on hold, ran to catch the carrier, handed him the corrected box and ran back to the phone to let me know my son would have his homemade cookies later that morning! Now that is service.
Thank you Barbara and all the other “Barbaras” at the post offices around the country who do a nameless, faceless job with such care and effort. My son and I are indebted to you all!