… why yes, I guess I should let the proverbial cat out of the bag, provided that bag was not given to me by a certain guy named Schrodinger. I’ll let the slow kids Google it while the rest of us ponder how much more awesome Schrodinger’s Cat would have been if he wasn’t in a box– but a bag. That’s a whole new dimension, and you love me more for making your brain hurt with it– doncha? It’s okay to admit, seriously, that dirty feeling washes off with a few gin ‘n’ tonics.
So it may or may not come as a shock to you that I have begun working for the United States Postal Service. That’s right, I’m workin’ for the government– and freaking loving it. Hang on to your obligatory “go postal” jokes, I’ll get to those in a minute. I need to take a moment to gloat at my own expense.
Lemme back up for a second, I’m not a carrier– those people have the hard job. Granted, if I had been offered said position, I would have jumped on it with both feet like Mario on a Koopa– but I lucked out and landed a clerk position. Not only did I land a clerk position– but it’s at a small-town post office where I run the joint. Not only do I run the joint– I’m my own postman, and I can walk to work in under four minutes. I can run to fucking work faster than most people can put the pedal to the metal– and not even get winded.
See me give a flying fuck that it’s not “full time,” I’m saving a ton on gas, and I get an hour and a half for lunch. If this isn’t a situation utterly soaked in awesomesauce– hand me the winning Powerball numbers. Otherwise, don’t judge me– because this is a job I can legitimately care about and not feel shitty for doing so.
Let me clarify this for a second before some of you jump on the judgmental bandwagon. I felt dirty caring about my assistant manager’s job at the Rent-to-Own company because I hated that job for more reasons than I want to delineate here. The two most recent part time jobs, yeah if I could have found a reason to give a damn about either one of them– I’d have felt dirtier than a hooker running a 2-for-1 Saturday night special. This position, right here? I freely give a shit about it– because although it’s not a glamorous job… it’s fucking important that it’s done right. I can get behind that. A sense of genuine purpose, no matter how seemingly mundane, goes a long way for a guy like me.
– and here you all thought I was just a shaken bottle of chaos and alcohol.
Sure, I don’t tend to play nice with bureaucratic horseshit because I’ve got a viper wit and an opportunist’s sense of patience– but I haven’t noticed any of those traditionally federal shenanigans. Honestly, everyone I have worked with so far has been pretty freaking nice– even if sometimes it appears that overlying web of command is more layered than one of my infamous pans of lasagna. Seeing how I’m pretty accustomed to being told what to do, it doesn’t matter to me if it’s one or fifty people doling out the orders.
Out in out? I’m working for the last government organization that is trusted by the public– and that specific fact is pretty well understood by the upper levels of management. In fact, in spite of the confusing web of command that makes decisions– there is one constant. The security and efficiency of the mail/package service is the primary imperative to be considered at all junctures.
This is a career path that isn’t glitz and glam, but I’ll tell you one thing. Compared to anything I’ve done in the past, without question, I will always be able to justify giving 160% and feel good about it… even if I am a bit confused by the “government” way of running things.
Not to mention, the hours are ideal to get me back into a writing/publishing state of being– which was my initial goal to begin with! Not to mention, being the only employee– I can count on things being done the right way, or I can kick my own ass for screwing up. It’s also a help that the “small town” atmosphere of my location brings in some pretty nice people to chat with. Win-win baby.