Recently, the Postal service Announced that as of the fall, they will no longer be delivering mail on Saturdays.
At first, it made me sad. What if I was so hoping to receive a DVD from Netflix on a Saturday to watch Saturday night? What if someone tries to send me a beautiful wedding invitation that day?
But as I thought about it, I realized: In the age of the internet, I’m just impressed that the Postal Service still exists at all.
The whole process is amazing to me. I can personally write a letter, seal its envelope shut with the saliva in my mouth, put a special sticker on it, deposit it in a box, and I just assume that it will go where it’s supposed to go. A person physically takes my letter out of the box, reads my handwriting to see where it’s going (okay, maybe that part is done by a robot), sorts it, and puts it somewhere to be picked up again. And then yet another human/robot physically walks or drives this letter to the recipient, handing it to him in person. It can even be done in a day or two.
It’s as if I said to you, “Hey, dear reader, if I gave you 46 cents, would you take this letter and deliver it to my friend in Boston? No biggie, right?”
There are people whose entire job and sole livelihood is to make sure that a company’s magazine is read by its clients, a bride’s invitation is delivered to a guest, and that my birthday card is delivered to my friend. It’s like sending an e-mail through a telephone operator and it has a 1-2 day lag time.
So yes, I am sad that, come this fall, I won’t be able to watch The Other Boleyn Girl this Saturday night because I forgot to order it yesterday on Netflix and there’s no way that it will arrive on time. But I am still generally in awe of the fact that we still get mail delivered to us at all.
Next time I see a mailman, I’m going to say thank you. And then hand him my Netflix DVD.