Today: the post office. Tomorrow: a spot on its Most Wanted poster

I want me one of these, for today I tackle the behemoth beast that is the United States post office.

Not for the first time — lemme repeat that, loudly — not for the first time my post office has lost my mail.

I've lived all over so it's with authority that I can say that the post office in Tacoma tops the list as the worst. Its only challenger is Las Cruces, New Mexico. There, in southern New Mexico, the mail did arrive, eventually, it just took twice as long. There was no urgency. They got around to it … whenever. It was as if everyone was on permament siesta.

But here … here the mail simply never shows up. It disappears into some nameless void, gets sucked into some black hole never to be seen again. And it's been like this since I arrived nearly three years ago. Without question the problems long predate my arrival.

I know that for a fact. How do I know? I will tell you. Because my December bill from Comcast never arrived. Just never showed up. Ever.

And you know they mailed it. You know that just like with your credit card company, electric company, phone company and medical providers, the chance of them not mailing a bill, of deciding, "eh, let's cut that person some slack this month" is a big fat ZERO. Nil. Nada. Zip. Not even in a world of science fiction would that happen.

So because I never received the December bill, I never paid the December bill (unintentionally of course). And was consequently slapped with a late fee. Not to mention one whopper of a bill that threatened to bring collapse to the tender lean structure of my checking account.

So I got on the horn with Comcast to explain and plead for mercy and a rescinding of the late fee. As it happened, I got a very affable woman who happened to be from Tacoma. Born and raised here. And when I detailed the ongoing problems with the post office, she got it immediately. Say no more. Poof – late fee gone.

Now once again, my Comcast bill has not arrived. That's twice in four months. And it ain't Comcast, it's the goddamn post office! I know because I called Comcast again. And they assured me that they had mailed it, told me the date and location and everything. Call me gullible but I believe 'em.

(And yes, my address is correct. And no, the bill wasn't returned, they can check that, btw.)

So again, into some unseen black hole it sailed. This is merely my most recent tale of grief. I won't bore you with the litany of other pieces of mail that have gone missing in my time in Tacoma or packages that haven't arrived, or did only after being returned to sender and remailed.

That's about when I receive an e-mail. "Did you move again? Because the _______ I sent came back."

"Uh, no. Thanks for asking, always good to check my address status. But no. It's just my post office fucking up per usual. Resend. I'll keep an eye out."

And this has been at each of my five different neighborhoods! The post office is no better on this side of town {pointing to this soil on this east side} than that {pointing far west}.

The catalyst for this posting isn't simply to vent my enormous frustration and grievances and bemoan the exceptional ineptness of Tacoma's post office, though such publicity is well deserved.

And it's not only to address the undelivered bills that today guides me to my central dispatch center to  initiate a complaint with my carrier's supervisor and tempts me so to haul along those grenade launchers.

Oh no, there's more fueling my ire and distress. For in addition to those ailments already mentioned, it has become evident that a package sent my way has gone missing.

And in that package was something I value even prior to its arrival. Something I've been dreaming of and blogged about in a prayerful manner. In that package is my first digital camera.

{pause}

And there is a story with that – and one that will be shared at a more appropriate time.

Now is not the time.

Now is the time for initiative and action and investigation and (that foreign word) service from the post office, along with a couple grenade launchers — OK, the photo must do. Now is the time, if you'll pardon the play with words, for going postal.

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