Let's play post office

I used to work in a post office. A little tiny post office in a little tiny town. Really the post office was about ten by fifteen feet and the sign at the edge of town said "Pop 165". The post office boxes were outside and the there was a dutch door on the front. The top of the door would be open and the bottom had a wide board on it that served as the counter. Some of the townsfolk would come by every day and ask for their mail. Our regulars. Others were more like once a week. Some residents had post office boxes in the next town and some just checked the mail after hours so we hardly ever saw them. But just about everyone came by sometime, to buy stamps or mail a package. And I knew them all by name. I knew were they worked and who they were married to or shacked up with. I knew their children and if there was a birth or death in the family I heard about it. If you had a birthday coming up I would say "Happy birthday!" when I handed you your stack of birthday cards. People would stand there at the window and tell us all the news of thier families and the local gossip. Then they would ask for the low down, the real story, behind some rumour they had heard. Usually the change in ownership of a local business, small town not a lot of exciting stuff going on. The reply was always the same, "I don't know." The rules were clear for the two or three of us that took turns manning the post, you can listen but you can not talk. Anything we found out working in the office was to be considered "classified", "top secret", not to be passed on. Period. Spreading gossip from from the PO would be grounds for dismissal.

And in our little community it would have taken exactly 16 seconds for the boss to hear about it if I wagged my tongue.

Owl

April 25, 2007