Where did those pens on chains go?

FRIDAY, MAY 28, 2010


Where did those pens on chains go?

Really important questions like this can be brought on by a trip to the Post Office.

Initially, I did not go to the Post Office to investigate this or some of the other questions that might arise when I got there. But some did so I am going to deal with it here and now.

The second question was: what is the tally today? After research and very deliberate counting and recounting I came up with the score:

Me – 6 pieces of mail, none that I wanted to read, 4 that I probably should read and 2 straight to recycling (or so I thought at the time)

Dead Guy – 1 and I can write notes on it but it looks like he will finish last and is having a bad day

Guy whose last name sounds like he is a terrorist – 4

This brought me to the realization that the terrorists might be gaining on me and maybe the government needed to install full body scanners at every egress of every Post Office in America. Further research is indicated.


So I am confronted with a question that is not rhetorical. Should I throw this mail out?
I had a bright idea to check at the counter only after I went to the car to get a pen because I needed one to make some notes on the dead guy’s mail. The Post Office in its effort to be fiscally responsible has determined that people should use their own pens to make notes or address envelopes when visiting. There were no pens on the chains. There were plenty of chains, just no pens. This was likely not a decision of the physical structure of the Post Office building itself but more likely a decision of top management or Congress.

As I am scrawling a note on the dead guy’s mail a nice lady interrupts me to tell me that they have counters inside where I could address my letter. She was concerned that it might be too hot. It was air conditioned inside. This was useful information to one sweating so profusely. I told her I could take advantage of that only after I finished the brief entry I was noting. I had to get it done in the heat because there were no pens on the counters inside on the available chains. She laughed because she knew what I was talking about. At least I though she did. She did not appear to be sweating. She had just gotten out of line and had plenty of time to cool off while she waited to speak to a clerk.

Since the LCD clock in the lobby was still blinking I decided to check my cell phone to determine whether or not the Post Office is meeting its goal to serve me within ten minutes after entering the line. I then decided not to get in line just yet because I needed to see what was in the mail that I was about to throw away and the three cent stamp purchase could wait.

The first thing I determined came from close inspection of the PRESORTED STANDARD U.S. POSTAGE PAID CHURCH OF SCIENTOLOGY letter. It was nice that it was all in upper case because that indicated to me and the Post Office that this was VERY important information.

I could not then determine what class of mail it was to the terrorist or of what importance that might possibly be with the single exception of likely it was not FIRST CLASS MAIL. The title on the mail did show that information contained would help the addressee “EXPERIENCE LIFE-CHANGING RESULTS”.

I did not want to open it and I was on a schedule so I moved on to the second piece of mail: The Ultimate Collection - Flag Land Base NEWS. Without having to Google I could tell from just reading the outside that this was also from The Church of Scientology.

The third piece of mail was FLAG LOCAL NEWS. I really did not have to read further since I was pretty sure that it also came from The Church of Scientology. I decided not to check the fourth piece of literature since it was obvious from the place where there should have been a stamp that at least the mailing was paid for by The Church of Scientology.

Not being Sherlock Holmes or wanting to get on the wrong side of God, a church or philosophy or way of life or what ever, I decided I needed professional help to determine what should be done. I also guessed that the potential terrorist was either a member of The Church of Scientology or being heavily recruited.

I checked my cellphone to again help estimate if the Post Office was meeting at least some of its goals. I had been occupied in research for longer than it would have taken to get served if I had just gotten in line in the first place.

Things were going my way... time to buy a lottery ticket. Everyone just cleared out in a hurry and I was instructed: “Next.” I told the fellow behind the counter that either he or I was extremely lucky. I suspected that it was not him.

I asked this most helpful employee: “What should I do?” I was relieved when he did not tell me to get back in line but asked instead: “How can I help you?”

I told him it was fortunate that I was the last one in line but that could be bad for him. He did not immediately start tapping the pen he was holding that was attached to a chain on the counter. He set it down in front of me possibly thinking that I might need to write myself a note or fill out a form that required that I know the size of the underwear my Grandmother was buried in.

I told him that I was going to present what I thought were my most logical options, one at a time and he then would offer his advice or tell me what to do based on Postal Law and common sense which I might have been a little short on. I explained that I was having trouble with my Post Office Box because it just was not big enough. The first thing he did was to offer to rent me a bigger box which was completely out of the question because I was almost broke but still had enough change for the impending stamp purchase.

I asked him to be patient and outlined for him Option A. Option A was me send in a forwarding package to the Post Office informing them that Mr. Scientologist formerly known as possible terrorist had moved to another address. Possibly I could think of someone that enjoyed snail mail spam. He informed me that was not a viable option because the Postmaster General or Congress did not allow that or else kids all over America would not be texting or calling the butcher to inquire if he had pig’s feet. Only the person who is no longer going to be at an address or no longer is at an address can legally fill out and mail forwarding packets to the Post Office.

Option B included me sending The Church of Scientology a personal request to send this mail that kept showing up unwanted and unclaimed in my Post Office Box elsewhere. I thought quickly that possibly that was not such a good idea because The Church of Scientology would realize they had a live person at my address and might think I needed some information. He told me that I could try that.

As I tried to decide if I should go with Option B, I was still left with all the literature I was holding. I told him of Option C which did not include wasting his time by asking such inane questions. Option C was just throw it out. I informed him that I thought Option C might include the commission of a Federal Crime so I proposed Option D.

Option D was to throw the mail into the misaddressed mail slot with all of the correct notations through the addressee information including Alice doesn’t live here any more. Since this had not been a successful strategy in the past with regard to the dead guy, I went on to Option E. What if I handed him the mail and just let him handle what was best for the Post Office, the addressee and The Church of Scientology.

He informed me that he would just strike thru the address and put the mail in his collection container. I of course wanted to know if that would be recycled or sent to the landfill. He told me that the things put there were indeed recycled. Since I knew for a fact that the contents of the garbage cans around the Post Office that I had access to were not recycled; I decided to go with Option E.

He then made the mistake of telling me that he would have to determine if anything I was about to hand him was First Class Mail. Ruh-Roh. If it was, he had to Return to Sender with the notation or correctly checked rubber stamp choice that addressee was not at this address. I was praying to the Gods of The Church of Scientology that something I had was First Class since that was the only thing that could possibly impact whether or not there was room in my mailbox for my mail or if I would have to go to the house and get my money and come back to rent a bigger mailbox.

Dreadfully, none was First Class Mail. I was relieved that if I had thrown it out I would not have been committing a Federal crime and decided to give the guy a break and hand him the mail.

I found out several things from this exercise. I remembered from one of the NEWS offerings from The Church of Scientology that Flag can handle any case with Standard Tech and I started to breathe easier as I left the clerk to his task of crossing out the terrorist’s name and noting that it was misdelivered mail. I felt a little guilty that I wasted the guy’s time and gave him more to do but felt comfort in the thought that I was insuring that he stayed employed. He had not yet become an OPS employee. I was fairly certain he belonged to a strong union and therefore would not be searching for bobbins under weaving machines.

I am left with this thought: Should OPS workers join the Union or would the fact that most OPS workers were Republican preclude that? I was also thinking that the Post Office was trying very hard to serve me in ten minutes and it was only people like me that kept that goal from being realized for the other suckers still in line.

I also felt sure that The Church of Scientology had plenty of money for mail and wondered if they would ever stop stimulating the economy and email at least a few things.

I thought of Carl Malden when I opened the car door. I could see him in my mind’s eye holding up a trusty Papermate Pen and saying: “Don’t leave home without it.”

The goal of a blog post in one page will not be met today. And, I am sitting here with the dead guys mail and noticed that in the upper right hand corner where there should be a stamp there is the copy: PRESORTED FIRST CLASS U.S. POSTAGE PAID CHICAGO, IL PERMIT NO. .....

Some information is withheld to protect the guilty. I am going to go to the Post Office and ask the nice man what do I do now with mail for the dead guy that is First Class Mail and completely covered with scribble. Should I or can he recycle it or should it go to the dead letter office to languish with all the other things that are there since 1825 when The United States Postal Service started a dead letter office to deal with undeliverable mail?

I forgot to get the three cent stamp. I would go tomorrow but the part I need to visit is closed. The next day is Sunday so they are also closed for stamp purchases. Monday is Memorial Day and a Federal Holiday so unless the clerk is an OPS worker I will have to go on Tuesday and purchase that three cent stamp and ask what to do with all the scribbled mail I have in my car.

Is this what irony really is?