Can you really trust your postal worker? I mean the one who is actually delivering your mail not the one that you buy stamps from at the post office. Today I was out in my front garden pulling weeds when the postman put some mail in my mailbox.
“How are you doing?” he said.
“Good. How are you?” I replied.
He smiled widely. “I’m great. I get to walk around in circles all day. It’s a great job.”
He seemed a bit too enthusiastic about delivering the mail to me. I wonder what he must be up to.
When I lived in Watford I read a story in the paper about a postal worker who was discovered going to the park every morning and opening people’s packages. What he liked he kept, and what he didn’t he threw away. I’m not accusing my postman of doing that, but I clearly remember handing him the envelope that contained the check to pay my internet bill. A few weeks later the internet company claims they never received my check. I wonder.
Now that I think about it, isn’t strange that I chose to pay my internet bill by putting a check in the mail? Who does that anymore?
I learned my lesson and paid my late bill online. I guess my postman was just trying to teach me that lesson as he dropped my envelope in the street while he was merrily walking in circles. I have no proof, but I’m trusting my gut on this one. From now on all my letters will go directly into the big blue box outside of the post office … expect for the water bill that I gave the postman this morning. Maybe I haven’t learned my lesson.