A postie spends a major part of his day on his own.
Once the joys of Sorting, Throwing Up and Bagging have been done (not to mention Redirections, Kill-Offs and Door-to-Doors) we whistle our merry way out on to the streets of your town/ village/ hamlet and get down to shoving bits of paper through your letterbox.
In Spring and Summer this is a joy as we can mooch about in our shorts, even wearing that ridiculous floppy Royal Mail fedora thing if we choose. It’s lovely weather and a great time to be out strolling in the fresh air.
Now it’s fucking winter and C.O.L.D (although that doesn’t stop Mad Marcus and Old Ron from wearing shorts).
I’m a fairly strong willed person, used to be in the RAF and have what could romantically be called a “high tolerance to pain and discomfort“. However today was a day when you just think “this really is a shit fucking job!”
To make it brief these are the top reasons for my self pity and melancholy.
1). Both my work-issue Doctor Marten boots had holes in the soles meaning I had wet feet.
2). The collapsible trolley broke halfway through, meaning I had to carry the bags on my shoulders.
3). The point where I left my van was equidistant between the start and finish points of the Walk. Only problem was that they in turn were nowhere near each other.
4). Some old geezer chased me down the road yelling “OI YOU FUCKING BLIND?!!” because he got junk mail in his letterbox when he had a sign up saying ‘NO JUNK MAIL EVER!!!’ Next time it’ll be a dog turd.
5). The Proximity Alert Alarm (high pitched squeal that goes off when you reverse the van too close to a stationary object) was bollocksed, meaning it went off just through shifting into reverse.
6). No. 27 Letsby Avenue had a letterbox with the same coiled power as the Reverse Bear Trap from the SAW movies, lost the skin on two knuckles putting an Amazon packet through.
7). Woman that lived there came out to find me shouting “FUCKING CUNT!!!” and kicking my trolley while sucking my grazed knuckles.
8). Classic FM was nowhere to be found as I drove back to the depot. Without this I tend to turn green and get bigger when driving through rush hour traffic.
9). My uniform was piss wet through
10). Got my wage slip and found that they yet again had forgotten to put all my overtime on from last week.
When you start deliberately remembering the time your mother wouldn’t let you watch Star Trek when you were 8 (37 years ago) just to find a way of focusing your misery…it’s time to move on.