I was recently reminded of the tried, true, and historical. Judge Middlemier* contacted me about a document. In this circumstance, electronic transmission would not do, and therefore, a piece of paper must make its way across the expanse of space. Conveyance of information has become so digitally-focused, it marked the first moment I necessitated Judge Middlemier's address.
The internet was nonetheless handy as a reference. It yielded two alternative addresses, and I had to inquire which was best. The response was a selection with the explanation that delivery to the other by the United States Postal Service (USPS) is "unreliable." That indictment of a postal carrier resonated. I have come to doubt the efficacy of my own.
The decline in my personal experience began when our e-filing began. This resulted in a decline in mail volume to the office here in Paradise. Gone were the days when the carrier would bring a full USPS bin each day. The carrier would always appear, though, because we were still sending mail. E-service arrived soon enough, and the outgoing mail became more sporadic. That's when the carrier became less attentive.
There was a time when the U.S. Postal Service was unwavering. Its dependability and grit were enshrined in its unofficial motto. In that, I recall an exchange between Timon, Pumba, and Simba in the midst of Hakuna Matata (The Lion King, Walt Disney, 1994):
Simba: "Hakuna Matata?Pumbaa: "Yeah. It's our motto!"Simba: "What's a motto?"Timon: "Nothing. What's a-motto with you?"
Classic. But a motto describes the mission. It is a clear and often shorthand method of conveying the core belief. The U.S. "Postal Service has no official motto," but has had one hung upon it by us observers.
"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."
The USPS is proud that the public has bestowed that attribution and has even taken to it. I remember when there were posters on the Post Office wall that made this proclamation. In fact, it is engraved in stone on the front of the James A. Farley Post Office in New York City. To be fair, this is not a recent attribution, nor was it created for the USPS.
In fact, the phrase was adopted or adapted from the history of postal delivery in the age of "Greeks and Persians (500-449 B.C.)," according to the USPS website. So the postal mission was apparently quite regular and envied some 3,000 years ago or perhaps earlier.
Perhaps that is why it is disappointing when the "appointed rounds" don't always include you. That is reasonably common here in Paradise, the local carrier simply omits our office from "their appointed rounds." The recent communique from Judge Middlemeier supported that we are not alone in our disappointment with the vaunted service of this iconic profession.
Why would anyone care if they do not receive their yesteryear newsletter, U-Line catalog (from whom we have never ordered, but from whom we receive a 300-page catalog quarterly), ads touting the latest verdict of some law firm, and other assorted detritus? No. We simply would not miss it. Periodically, a real communique arrives. These are exceedingly rare.
Nonetheless, we do still send some mail out. There are those days when we might have ten to fifteen envelopes for pickup. And those are "service" and say we mailed them on a particular day. That can implicate someone's due process, and they need to go on the day we said they did. The communique from Judge Middlemier made me think of Kevin Costner.
Two years after Waterworld (Universal, 1995) flopped, Mr. Costner brought us a more disastrous box office non-event, The Postman (Warner Brothers, 1997). They each had reasons to flop, but The Postman will likely go down in history as an example, or warning, to all who make movies. Some went so far as to label it "disastrous." That said, it did not make the "worst 25" list of largest financial losers.
In The Postman, we see a dystopian future (2013). The foundation is a society isolated and reeling from some apocalyptic war or conflict. There are isolated pockets of people in close-knit communities, sharing their challenges and leery of strangers. Mr. Costner plays a wanderer (see also Waterworld and the potential for recurring themes in box office bombs). He happens on a wrecked postal truck.
Having assumed the identity of that truck's postal carrier, Costner begins delivering old mail (no, not U-Line catalogs and advertisement circulars). He is welcomed by the otherwise leery and suspicious apocalypse survivors because of their recollections of the USPS and their carrier experiences. The survivors form a faith that the U.S. government has returned from the results of the fictional global conflict.
Seeing "the postman" walk into their world restores faith. There is a familiarity, a grounding, and a reassurance. Hollywood tripe in the opinions of some, but perhaps with a grain of truth? Maybe we could all be reassured by the regular appearance of the USPS representative?
Nonetheless, it does not happen with regularity in Paradise. I have adopted a habit of walking past the outgoing mail spot each day when I depart. At least twice a month, I take mail from that spot and drop it by the post office on my way home. Our mail is important, even though it may be sporadic.
The point of all of this is reliability. Does the USPS warrant the reverence and respect portrayed for Costner's wandering imposter? In the real future, rather than the 1990s dystopia envisioned in The Postman, is the USPS delivering on its unofficial motto? Or, with sporadic service, is it merely reinforcing that we can handle a world without daily mail delivery?
This is not a post intended to demean or degrade the fine USPS team. It undoubtedly performs a thankless and difficult task. And yet, we might each think of how its members create expectations, good or not-so-much. The fact is, we are all doing that. Every day. In every task. Are we providing reliable, predictable, and thorough service as professionals? Or, are people merely adapting to our shortfalls?
If we are not delivering, are we creating an expectation that merely derides and discredits us all? If the Florida OJCC is not meeting your expectations, I would love to hear from you at david.langham@doah.state.fl.us. Let us know how and where we fall short. We don't want to be wandering, just singing Hakuna Matata:
It means no worries for the rest of your days
It's our problem free philosophy, Hakuna Matata
