December 2, 1998

The Reactor's stamp of approval

A woman named Mary Armstrong has redeemed my faith in the post office, after it was tested not long ago.

It started when I stopped in the Pacifica main post office on a recent Saturday afternoon. I wanted to buy $3.20 cents worth of stamps. That's a fairly simple procedure. I deposited four dollar bills. The machine should have returned 80 cents and a packet of 10 stamps to use on 10 letters.

Instead the machine gave me back a Susan B. Anthony dollar coin (I would have written "a Susie dollar", but some feminists might object) and nothing else. I felt around, but found no stamps.

I banged on the window long enough to annoy the folks working within. They came to the side door to tell me that no one could help me. They could not give me stamps. Neither could they return my money. They were obviously quite annoyed with me for disturbing what they were doing, which was obviously of far greater importance than serving an annoyed customer.

They brought me a blank complaint form, which I filled out and dropped in the local (Pacifica delivery) slot. Logically a form addressed to the post office in which it was mailed should not have had to travel more than 20 or 30 feet before it came to rest on the postmaster's or mail superintendent's desk.

Instead, on the following Tuesday, three days later, a call came to my home from the Linda Mar branch post office, four miles south of the post office where the problem took place. It seems they couldn't understand my clearly written message. My handwriting, while not the best, is probably at the fiftieth percentile in readability. Not nearly the best, but not the worst I've seen.

In order to return the call, I had to use part of my half hour lunch. I also had to call the 800 number in Denver, where I wasted half my lunch hour listening to choices from the recording. "Do you wish to continue this call in English? Press one."

When I finally got through to a living person, he wanted my name and parts of my life history. Then it turned out the Linda Mar line was busy, so I asked to talk to the Pacifica office. This turned out to be a gentleman who tried to be helpful. However his heavy accent was difficult to get past, and he did not seem to understand my problem.

I gave up, and called back on my 15 minute coffee break.

I first talked to a "CUSTOMER SERVICE SPECIALIST" in Denver. After some time spent in going over all the details involved, (he wanted my name, address, etc. though he did not ask for my social security number) he finally did what I had asked him to do in the first place and transferred me to Pacifica, where I was able to explain to Mary Armstrong that I was on a short time leash. Then I told her the whole story again. She pointed out that she couldn't give me ten 32 cent stamps, since I had gotten back Susie from my four dollars. I agreed that seemed reasonable, and I suggested nine 32 cent stamps, and the rest in one cent stamps. Done. Stamps were in my mail box next day. Thanks, Mary.

Paul Azevedo was signed up as a Pacifica voter in 1963 by Ken Strom, who later became Pacifica's postmaster. Postmasters are no longer chosen on the basis of local politics, but on tests and aptitude.