What’s happening?? Whispered the young man with tight locs behind me. The urgency in his voice made me look up from Love is a Revolution by Renee Watson.
I inspected the long line and then looked at the three windows. What really was happening? All the windows had an agent but the line was not going anywhere. I stared at the front for a while but couldn’t put my finger on it.
One lady left the post office saying people needed to retire but that was it.
I returned to my book and only closed it when a lady behind me begin to whisper into her phone and the buzz sat in my ear. Every time I moved up, she inched up.
Long lines wouldn’t be so bad if I could just read.
I closed my book. I finally was at the front and waiting to called to the window. With the buzz still ringing in my ear, I walked to the agent.
Darzin had a turquoise sari on her head and her postal uniform was interrupted by a colorful novice behavior.
She carried the attitude of a Black woman postal worker: an inch of no nonsense and a centimeter of kindness.
Hi. How may I help you?
I am mailing this package off. Media mail please. I lift the heavy window and place my package on the dais.
She began to type into the machine and tell me to press yes or no to the questions that popped up on my machine.
When she saw the price of my package, she repeated the transaction. I pressed everything again and wait. And, yes, it read $5.13. Again. She then did something I never saw at a post office- she picked up her tape measurement from her finger tips and measured my plastic package.
The package was a little over the suggested length. She then looked up at me with the attitude.
Nope. Not media.
I smiled at her. A huge smile because only a seamstress would travel like a writer. Instead of keeping pen and paper, she keeps a tape measurement.
She returned the smile.
Then I continued. The package is media mail. It’s a book.
You sure?
Yes.
Humm….
I smiled again. As she placed her tape measurement behind her neck. I talked her through the steps. After all I’ve been mailing off books for years. Return to the screen that read $5.13 and then allow me to pay.
She smiled and called her manager who came gently.
What now?
Is this right? She says she has media mail but it’s only $5.13.
It’s right. The machine gives us the amount.
The transaction had to start all over- again.
You were right. The manger whispered to her.
Oh! It’s your first day? I asked.
Something like that. The manager answered.
Darji stood smiling.
Well, congratulations on your new job!
The long line groaned behind me.
$5.13 she smiled back.
I gave her exact change.
Uh….we don’t take the penny. Round up to 15 cents.
I laughed. The penny is the only way you can make 13. Tell postal service to drop the change.
She now begin to laugh.
Did they tell you to say no pennies? I inquired.
We both laughed.
Well, good night and congratulations again.
Good night and thanks.