The Mean Postman

It’s really nice for my online book shop that the mail carriers pick up my outgoing packages. Even though they are on foot, they pluck my packages out of the basket on our porch, and drop them into their bottomless bags. Of course, if I have lots of packages like this week, I take them to the post office myself. But usually its manageable for the carriers.

The post people in our neighborhood aren’t historically the friendliest people in the world. But that’s okay. They have places to be and things to do.

Well, along with the shortage of paper and palm oil, we’ve had a shortage of mail carriers. Then, a tall man with an India-style turban began delivering to our street. And NOT picking up my packages.

I overlooked his rudeness a time or two, and took the package to a mailbox or the main office myself. Soon however, I began to complain. When he bolted off our porch to the next house, once again WITHOUT MY packages, I would look out the front door and just stare at him in disbelief. I thought of running after him, but I figured he would just tell me that the other mail carriers had spoiled me and in fact he was not required to pick up my media mail.

Can’t he see that I have a baby? I fumed inwardly. That I can’t just run to the post office on a whim? But no, day after day he kept on not helping me out. He even passed by the car once when I was putting Anina in and smiled at her. So then he knew I had a baby. He knew it wasn’t the easiest thing for me to run over to the post office in, let’s say, the rain. But, in his malicious spirit, he still kept on not taking my packages. Was this the way they treated moms in Eastern Asia? Oh, I knew people shouldn’t be judged by their background, but I just didn’t quite know what to make of that turban. I also didn’t know what to make of his negligence. So I lumped the two mysteries together in my mind, and he became the Mean Man with the Turban Hat.

Well, finally I took my packages to the post office and asked THEM if the policy had changed. No, the not-so-friendly lady said, as long as you put it in your mailbox they should take it.

But my mailbox is too small, I explained. So I put it in a basket underneath.

Well, he probably just doesn’t notice it, she said, as if she had better things to do than listen to me whine. She probably did.

So the next day I hung the basket off our porch bench DIRECTLY under the mailbox and added a note, pinned down with a rock, that said “OUTGOING MAIL.” I propped the package I wanted to send out on the top ledge of the basket where it was resting against the mailbox.

And waited.

When the door camera jingled, I felt confident. There was no way he could miss it. After he left, I went out, just to make sure.

WHAT?!?!

There was my package still propped against the mailbox, a single copy of one of the adventure books in a bubble wrap mailer.

How could he be so blatantly mean?

I snatched it off in indignation and hurried down the wooden steps of our front porch. I waved it at him. He had gone down the street and was coming back to his truck, quite speedy like most of them.

“Is there any way you can take this?” I asked.

“Oh, is that outgoing?” He looked at it with interest as if it had never occurred to him that people might have outgoing mail as well as incoming mail.

“Yes,” I said. “Our mailbox isn’t big enough so I put them in the basket.”

“Oh, sure, sure!”

He cheerfully took my package and headed on down the street.

Wait, what? A friendly postman?

Just yesterday, it was raining and miserable outside. I was getting out of my car as he was walking back, so I thought I should speak to him to remind him that we are still friends. Or something. But before I could open my mouth, he made the first move.

“Hello!” he said with a wide smile.

I asked him if he was staying dry and he said he was trying to.

A great imagination has its perks, of course. But when I next wonder why someone is so mean, I hope I remember the postman with the turban. It’s not hard to remember him now. I really think he might turn out to be my favorite post carrier.

Well, hip, hip hooray! The new version of Book 1 is finally out so all the titles match. I haven’t yet re-taken photos for the shop, but from now on orders will be filled with the new version of Book 1, with the larger title. Besides the title font, the new version is not much different from the old, which you can still see in the photo below.

Save with the set of 1-3. Click on the photo.

6 thoughts on “The Mean Postman”

  1. I enjoy your blog posts very much and I’ve especially enjoyed the segments by Anina. I do hope they will continue even though she is now ONE. They are so cute! even though she uses some pretty big words for a little girl like mesmerized!

  2. Happy birthday to Anina! I can’t believe she is a year old now. I wonder if Former Mean Postman now Mr. Nice Postman was new to the job and didn’t understand that he was supposed to take outgoing mail. Hopefully you won’t have anymore problems.
    Have a blessed Mothers Day!

  3. Oops! I didn’t realize I didn’t fill in my information above. Anonymous is me. As a matter of fact I almost had a argument with my tablet telling it I’m NOT anonymous!

  4. Jessica Foster

    What a sweet cake for beautiful Anina on her 1st birthday. Thank you for sharing her milestone stories. I do hope ‘ she ‘ continues to share, even tho she is ONE!!
    Happy Mother’s Day to you, Katrina. God bless you always!

  5. Ida Mae Hershberger

    I enjoy your posts, especially the letters from Anina. She’s quite an interesting person. And intelligent. 😉 Keep up the writing, Anina, even though you are now beyond “months” old.

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