Wait a Minute Mr. Postman
We have mail.
Actually, that’s not new. We started tracking down some of our mail a couple of weeks ago when the Bentonville post office finally decided holding our mail was within its realm of responsibilities. I guess since we filled out not one, but two Hold Mail Order forms they realized we were either expecting a shipment of high-grade heroin, wanted to be sure we didn’t all behind on our reading of The Leaven and the Allied Painters Union No. 14 newsletter, or were just serious about getting our mail.
However,like any normal Americans we wanted more. Although we could conveniently pick up our past-due utility bills and Bed Bath & Beyond coupons we really wanted these fine paper treasures delivered right to our door – hot, fresh and with less than eight steps required. So, after another friendly chat with the landlord (including a refusal to establish the required automatic bank draft arrangements) we thought we were on our way. Sure enough, a truck showed up that week and began installing mailboxes for everyone!
Well, everyone but us. No kidding, every house on the street got a mailbox but us – even the unoccupied houses.
I called to chew a** explain that this was “unacceptable” and we got a box the very next day.
Who says the meek will inherit the earth?
