When Martin and I run into him,
he's quick with a grin and a hello.
he's just an all-around nice guy.
People like to think that big cities are chockfull of anonymity.
I beg to differ. Sure, on any given day, I may pass strangers whom I've never seen before,
and probably won't again—doubly so because I live in
the number-one tourist destination in the world.
(Don't get me started on how much I hate the little go-carts
with the too-loud built-in automated tour guide voice
that turns onto my street because, eventually,
it takes them onto that famously crooked block of Lombard Street.
I guess I should count my lucky stars that I don't live there!)
After residing twelve years on the same block,
you recognize some faces. One of the nicest is that of our postal worker. The dude always has a great smile!
He's also got a gray beard that would rival Santa's.
But he's certainly in much better shape
because he walks his route.
Even a few minutes of conversation with him puts a smile on my face. He's into music, great books, and he's a history buff.
When you buy a book directly from me,
after I sign it, I mail it to you from my local post office.
There are four within walking distance to me.
My favorite is the smallest, which also gets the least foot traffic.
We, their customers, sometimes rush in,
harried because this is just one of the many stops we'll make that day.
But the postal workers behind the counter
are always courteous. When you walk into an environment
that is zen, it has a calming effect on you too.
So, yes, I have great respect and appreciation
for people who can do a job I know I'd fumble.
This includes flight attendants, actors,
construction workers, and the cable gal.
And, yes, postal workers.
Trust me, you don't want me
sorting your mail.
Heck, I'd be like Lucy Ricardo
on the chocolate conveyor belt!
How about you?
Does your postal person make you smile?
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