By Patricia Lee Sharpe
I think I went to a farce two days ago. The setting was the local post office. I thought I was going to be a client, a customer. Mostly I was a reluctant member of an audience fixated on the solo performance of a single postal employee I’ll call Hero Clerk. For this privilege I became a Number Person. I’d get served when my number was called.
A One Hero Drama
The hero of this exasperating drama was the one clerk at a counter set up for five or six clerical performers. Actually, I’d experimented in recent weeks to see when there might be two or more clerks available, hoping for a shorter wait. I tried ten o’clock. One o’clock. Three o’clock. Always just one clerk. Clearly this was a one actor play.
As for my fellow audience members, were they having a better time than I was? Being brilliantly clairvoyant, I read their minds. What I read was: UPS, FEDEX, ANYTHING BUT USPS NEXT TIME.
Number People Rebel
Number People often walk out, as I did that day, to avoid a parking ticket for underestimating the time I’d need to get some media mail posted.
Early on, the take-a-number system was a good idea. You didn’t bet on one line only to find that other lines were moving faster—that being the halcyon days of plural clerks. Now your number grants access to a single virtuoso, so I expected to observe the epitome of efficiency, a Superhero Clerk. No such luck.
The Script
So what's a Hero Clerk’s job as counter man? The customer places a previously addressed envelope or box on the counter. Hero clerk rapidly eyeballs or weighs it, then slaps the right postage on. The client proffers payment. The clerk makes change and/or gives a receipt. Done! No time wasted. You’d think.
But no. Hero clerk is also Genial Helpful Clerk (which would have been fine if all six clerk stations were occupied). The client* brings an unaddressed empty box which needs to be packed. Then flaps have got to be manipulated, and there's sealing to be done. Hero Clerk does not say, “There’s a table over there. Please bring it back when it’s ready.” Oh no! He does the job. Himself. Patient Obliging Super Packer Hero Clerk then watches as the client laboriously addresses the package.Ah, what a fascinating performance for the crowd of Number People who are watching! Maybe the USPS could sell tickets just for such performances. Meanwhile, Hero Clerk is finally getting around to weighing and accepting payment for his masterpiece of box-prep.
OK. Whew! That job is done. On to the next number, or so we Number People expect. We are treated to dialog instead. Hero Clerk and customer chat. (I suspect there’s a prescription for chitchat in the USPS customer manual. Be courteous. Make friends. Etc.) The Number People watch mutely, politely, until finally the happily served customer is leaving. The Number People don’t applaud at this stage of the play, but they are delighted.
Suspense
Yet Hero Clerk does not call a number. He hefts the box and walks to the far end of the long, otherwise unoccupied counter to toss the box into a receptacle. He may even carry it into the back room, leaving the counter absolutely unattended. When will he come back? When will he finally start calling numbers again? How delicious to speculate! Suspense is at the heart of drama.Occasionally supernumeraries wander in from the mysterious precincts out back. They paw at the unused computers, raising expectations. Another clerk on duty! Needless to say they do not dare to make eye contact with the clientele. And then they disappear.
(Sort of) Happy Ending
Finally, Hero Clerk is ready for the next client. He presses a button. Seventy-six. Gone! Seventy-seven. Gone! Seventy-eight—
Here! I’m here! A breathlessly grateful Number Person staggers to the counter.
*Note to clients: please do your packing and addressing at home!!!!