Yesterday I had to go to the post office.  It shouldn’t have been that scary – I’ve been there before.  This time I was mailing the invitation packets to my Mom’s 85^th Birthday Weekend to all our partying relatives.  No big deal right?  I had mailed the exact same packets 5 years ago for her 80^th Birthday Bash, and 10 years ago for her 75^th Birthday Bash, so I really knew the drill.  Little did I know that  this time the drill would take a left turn into -

The Technology Zone…

    I finally got my turn and placed my 19 packets on the counter to be weighed.  They were just slightly larger than a regular letter in the smallest manila envelope you could buy.

     “I think these might be a little more than 42 cents.”  I began.

     The postmistress, Sally, produced a plastic ruler with a slot cut out of it.

\     “If it doesn’t fit through here, it has to go as a ‘flat.’” she announced.

     The pressure was on.  I felt the line behind me hold its collective breath.  I picked up a packet, and with the determination of one who knows anything will fit through anything with enough force behind it, I shoved the packet through the slot.  It went from being crisp and clean to wrinkled and disheveled.  So that’s what happens to the mail. 

     Sally picked up a packet.

     “This has a metal clip on the back.”

     “Yeah, I know, I had to clip them all.”

     “If it has a metal clip it has to go as a flat.  It won’t go through our new automatic sorting machine if it has a metal clip.”  The crowd listened anxiously. ‘Metal clip?’  I heard them checking their envelopes for metal clips.  No one wants to go as a “FLAT.”

I felt like I was going to cry.  I was so sick of these invitations. 

     “It’s OK,” she assured me.  “We can take the metal clips off.”  She picked up an envelope and started to dig into my formerly pristine invitations to my sweet mother’s 85^th Birthday and with barely a rip and a tear, the metal clip came out.

     “But now there’s a little hole…” I moaned

     “Nothing a bit of tape won’t fix.”  She produced a giant roll of tape and went to work on the next one.  The crowd behind me shifted their feet.  We had all missed lunch by now.  I picked up the next packet and ripped out the clip.  A hole’s a hole, right?  Who cares how big it is.  Not me.  Not anymore.

      “I’ll do them.”  she volunteered brightly.  “It will give me something to do.”  I think the mob behind me felt she might already have something to do?  At this point I took a quick nonchalant sidewise glance around and noted that the line actually went out the door.  Not good.

     “That will be 59 cents a piece to go First Class, and I’ll remove the clips for you during my lunch break.”  What kind of good ganja was she smoking here?

     “Ok.”  I stammered.  “Thanks.”

     “I just have to type in each zip code to get a stamp.”  Each zip code? 

     “Aren’t they all 59 cents?”

     “Yes, but I still have to type in each zip code.”  She waited.  “My machine is so slow today.”  The tension was thick behind me.  In Alaska, Officer Joe would have been here by now.  Then the wurring of the machine stopped.  A deadly silence fell upon the room.

    “Uh oh.” Her face went white. “I think it died.”  God, no.  Can’t we do something?  Where’s the defibrillator?  She disappeared into the back and returned with a large man.

     “It’s done.” he announced. And just like that he pulled the plug out of the wall.  The computer screen went black.  Sally immediately took charge of the crisis.

     “I can help anyone who just needs stamps and has exact change.”  A man threw his letters in the air.  Another started banging his head against the wall.  I felt in my pocket for my mace.  Sally patted my hand. 

     “It was better before we had all this technology.”  she admitted.

     ‘Thank you, God,’  I whispered.  ‘that was all I needed to hear.’