A Low Profile

For most of my life I didn’t dream. Well, I did a couple of times a year, but I’d forget the dream within minutes of waking up. I found out that everyone dreams and they dream all of the time. I thought I was just weird, but it turned out that I was dreaming but for whatever reason I didn’t remember them.

I think that maybe I was living the dream… I did and do have a vivid imagination, less vivid now, but maybe that contributed to my not dreaming. Okay, not remembering my dreams. I spent my days wandering the streets delivering mail and I would let my imagination flow. Sure, there was an unusually large percentage of mis-delivered mail on my route, but I generally delivered it to the right address the next day.

One time I was delivering an apartment building door to door and mis-delivered a letter. What normally would happen is that the letter would be sticking out of the mailbox the next day and I would pick it up to deliver to the correct address. Sometimes there would be nothing written on the letter, but more often than not the people would take the opportunity to tell me what an “ignorant, stewped, morin” I was and “wong address”, usually was written in black crayon or marker. I wished they hadn’t written on the letter because it was hard to explain to the owner of the letter. Oh well, if they didn’t like the service, they should use the other Post Office.

I was called in to the regional director’s office one day and the director, some other suit and my supervisor were in the office. I asked them to what did I owe the pleasure of their company? My boss told me that I mis-delivered a letter to apartment 305-75 Morriton Road. I told them that I was sorry, but in my defence there were three apartment buildings on that street, 73, 75 and 77 that had the same apartment numbers and the lights in the hallways had 20 watt bulbs and it was hard to see. I had complained about the situation before. I asked if they could understand how a letter could be dropped in the wrong slot.

They still seemed irritated. My boss told me that he understood the problem, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened. I told him it probably wouldn’t be the last either. He said that 305 had had a government check mis-delivered and then I mis-delivered the letter of apology the regional director had sent out. Hmmmmph!

“Well, I can see how you might be a little miffed…” The regional manager jumped out of his chair and screamed “A LITTLE MIFFED…A LITTLE MIFFED!!! He was turning an unnatural shade of purple and spit was coming out of his mouth with the words.You should be fired right now, but we can’t do that because of the union.”

I smiled and said “You gotta love the union. I will be extra careful about 305’s mail in the future. Maybe you could talk to the super and see if they can put brighter bulbs in the hallways. Sorry for any trouble I caused you.”

With that, I walked out of the office and wasn’t sure if I still had a job. Turns out I did. Nothing was ever said about the incident again, but the regional director didn’t shake my hand the next Christmas and wouldn’t even look at me when we passed each other on the way to the lunchroom.

It is always best to keep a low profile.