I recently watched a movie about Cuba.  The movie was awash with the oft-used trick in movies about communist countries that are made in capitalist countries where even the simplest things are portrayed as being a monumental struggle under the crippling weight of government control and lack of incentives for productivity.  In case you haven’t watched such a movie, a prime example is where the main character might want to make soup, but because of the government rations on chicken stock, and the fact that the person has to go to ask permission of a soldier to turn on the stove, the character is forced to drive 1,400 miles to in a jalopy over poorly maintained roads to complete the soup, which ends up spoiling because he gets stuck in a small village waiting for a member of his family to arrive but who never does either because the country’s train system is shut down due to poorly maintained tracks, or because he was imprisoned for using too much flour.

While it’s possible and even likely that the inspiration for such movies is grounded in some version of reality for people living in that country, it’s also possible that the writer simply took his recent experience as a US Postal Service and projected it upon political and governmental structure of another place.

I ran out of stamps eight months ago and because I never want to spend $24 on a book of stamps I'll lose or get wet or otherwise render useless, for the last several months I’ve opted to walk to the post office each and every time I need to send a letter.  This probably sounds crazy but since I send between zero and one letters per month, I regard it as pretty reasonable.

My local post office has about 14 employees though apparently only three that are certified to assist customers.  Additionally, the branch has a policy whereby two of the three possible employees are required to take lunch between 12 and 1 when 80% of the day’s mail-sending traffic arrives and to announce said lunch break so that the people waiting in line are able to hear it.

It’s easy to suggest that what causes the epic lack of productivity is the cluelessness and strength of the postal workers union which rewards its employees for a) being older than other postal workers and b) deciding to be a postal worker early in life c) promising to wear wool shorts.  But since the general lack of interest and motivation-suck association with the postal service eclipses even the registry of motor vehicles, one must assume there’s something else at play.

Yesterday, the line at my local branch was about 400% longer than usual.  Noting the potential hour-long wait, I sauntered into the place to see what was holding things up.  Predictably, there were only two people behind the counter, though one, a guy with large sideburns, was staring straight ahead with a deadbeat look on his face and not accepting any customers.  The other guy was dutifully helping each customer and telling as many as would listen about his trip to Punta Cana , which may or may not have taken place four years prior, and which was the topic of conversation because the weather was kind of cold outside and mostly because he was wearing a yellow “bought it in an airport” hat bearing the name of the Dominican resort complete with two amphibious dolphins leaping near a palm tree. 

After 35 minutes in line I got within 6 people of the window.  From this vantage point I was able to see that Deadbeat Guy had been hung up by a broken scanner, which is used for purchases bearing a for bar code, but which would not, have stopped someone trying to buy two stamps and send two letters or doing 75% of the other business they do at the post office.  What I could also see from the vantage point was that the woman  in front of me was carrying two shopping bags full of packaged CD’s, probably of her husband’s flute music, that she was sending to anyone they’d ever known.

Flute lady and Dominican Chamber of Commerce, really hit it off, and spent the 15 minutes it took him to weigh each CD and print and affix postage discussing his desire to be back down South, his hilarious offer to employ her part time in the printing and affixing of labels to her own flute CD’s, and her hilarious acceptance of the position.

After experiencing such frustration with a relatively simple process I felt great sympathy for people living under oppressive regimes.  Then I thought about Punta Cana, and the land-dwelling dolphins.  Then I bought stamps.