I am reminded of this one time that I smelled a gas leak in one of my customer’s homes. He was very old, lived alone, and had no family in town. I had not seen him in days ... and this very strong odor wafted out by the front door. I
just knew he was in there unconscious. So I called 911. The fire truck came out, and a VERY large crowd gathered.

The fireman used an ax to break down the front door. When they got inside, they did not find Mr. Fernald ... he was no where to be found. More importantly, there was no longer an odor. When they checked the stove, they found it to be
electric. The fireman then wiggled his finger at me, calling me to the front door. He then pointed at this very large blooming bush growing right next to the door, and asked me to sniff it. OMG!!! It smelled just like the gas I had 'detected' !!! Boy was I embarrassed!

It turned out that Mr. Fernald was away visiting family. I felt so bad, that I arranged for the now open doorway to be sealed, and contacted the landlord, and made arrangements to pay for a new door to be installed.

Silver Farr
Retired
Branch 782

There was the time, when I was still on probation, that I encountered a situation that could have ended my career. I was doing a neighborhood of 'out the door' delivery. No sidewalks, just dirt shoulders where you drove right up to the box to service it.

This one delivery in particular ALWAYS had 2 or 3 cars parked 'nose in' right in front of the box. They had been parked there so long, that grass was actually growing over a foot high underneath them. Consequently, I'd have to park and dismount in order to service the box.

This one particularly light volume day, I was just breezing through my route, thinking 'how lucky I am'. As I approached that delivery, I could not believe my eyes!!! There was NO CARS IN MY WAY!!! Yay!!! I was so jazzed, that as I was
breezing up to the box to deliver it, I barely even noticed the little 'clunk, clunk' noise (more about that later) underneath my vehicle. I threw it into neutral, and picked up the mail, fingered it, and made the delivery. This was surely a day that I
would remember ... and if I was lucky, maybe they even SOLD the old cars!!!

Maybe then, this would be the way I'd deliver that box from now on!!! Life was so good!!! After making the momentous delivery, it was time to go on to the next one ... I signaled left, looked over my left shoulder for traffic, and threw my
vehicle into drive.......... nothing ..... I heard the engine rev, so I knew it was running. I checked it to make sure I was now in 'drive', and it was. Oh shoot!!! Something was wrong!!! I had to get this mail delivered, or else!!! I was on probation!!! I had a new baby to support all on my own!!! I made the quick decision to re-configure the remainder of the mail (just that street, and one
more), and start walking to deliver. There was a gas station with a pay phone at the end of the block, so I would deliver up to there, make the call to my boss so he could get maintenance out to repair me, and then walk the next street. I'd be
done before they got my jeep fixed!!! What a great plan ... Surely the boss would admire my ability to improvise!!!

Well ... things changed when I got out of my vehicle. The step out seemed to be a lot further down than usual. What the heck was going on here??? Then out of the corner of my eye ... I saw something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. My vehicle was floating above ground!!! It was a physical impossibility!!! Maybe I'd fallen and hit my head!!! I looked around for someone, so I could at least ask them if they were seeing the same thing, but no one was there. Then
suddenly, a man appeared as if out of nowhere (in reality, he came out of the house). He was grinning, and chuckling. He pointed under my vehicle, and laughingly said, "you got her high centered!!!". I asked 'huh?" He said "lookie
there", pointing underneath. I looked under the jeep, and my heart jumped into my throat!!! All four wheels were off the ground!!! And right there smack in themiddle, was a tree stump!!! (This is where I'll say more about that little 'clunk, clunk' noise I'd barely heard as I was driving up).

Aparently ... that is the sound a stump makes when it takes on the responsibility of holding a 1/4 ton in mid air. NOW I JUST KNEW my job was in dire peril. I thanked the man for his expertise, handed him his mail, locked my vehicle, and proceeded to deliver the rest of that
block on foot. All the while, rehearsing what I was going to say to Sal (my boss).

By the time I got to the pay phone, I'd decided on using humor to convey my perilous situation to the boss. When he answered the phone, I said "this is Silver ... can you say 'stuck on a stump' ten times fast?" He paused, and asked me
"huh?" I repeated myself, "Can you say 'stuck on a stump' ten times fast?" There was a deafening silence ... he started to speak very slowly, saying “Oh my God Silver ... please tell me it’s not true”… (or something like that). I then explained
my predicament, as best as I could. Hurriedly, he told me to keep delivering on foot, and he'd be right out. When I got back to my vehicle (all my mail was delivered now), he was literally trying to 'pry' my jeep off of the stump with a very long 4" x 4". Of course it snapped in two, as I walked up. (Supervisors were stupid back then also). Just then ... my luck turned. The most beautiful vision was appearing right before my eyes!!! It was a tow truck!!! Sal was smiling, and waving at the driver!!! Before I could say 'thank you Lord', he was out of the truck, and looping cables around my vehicle. That being done, he flipped a switch
and the sound of a motor filled the air. He was actually 'winching' my jeep. He picked it up, suspending it above the stump. Then he flipped another switch, and it began to move to the side. When it was clear of the stump, he gently set it back down on the ground. My boss gave me a little wink, and said "I don't see any damage ... We can keep this to ourselves".

The tow driver was a friend of his from Tallywacker Towing', and did not charge him a dime. I drove back in to the station, cleaned up my nixies, and went home like nothing had happened. The next day, as I approached that fateful delivery ... I was actually RELIEVED to see the cars parked back where they belonged. Safely in front of the mail box. If it wasn't for that nice Supervisor, I just know I would have been fired. I owe my entire career to him. He eventually went back to carrying, and now works in another state the last I heard. If you are out there Sal ... thank you brother.

Silver Farr
Br. 782
Retired

Back when I was a PTF, one of my jobs was to distribute letter mail, and flats to the other carriers. On one morning in particular, I was wearing these 'musical' underwear that played the tune 'Love Me Tender'.

As I was distributing the letter mail which came to us in the large 'hampers', the little 'button' (located in the waistband of the panties) that triggered the playing of the tune got jammed when I bended over the side of the hamper to pick up a tray of mail. The music started playing, and continued all day long. Try as I might, I was unable to 'disable' the sounds coming from my nether regions.

That day, the route I was delivering was a 'walk out' with a push cart. I had several relays in the office, when I would reload the cart, then go back out to deliver. On my 2ND relay, I was called into the office by the station manager. My steward was present, as well as the station manager, my carrier foreman, and the director of customer services from the mail processing annex. It seems that a customer at a business I had delivered to had commented to someone about the 'musical' letter carrier. I don't know how, but it eventually got to the 'ears' of the director of customer services that I was 'distracting' customers on my (business) route with the 'provocative' music emanating from my nether regions. Hence the meeting I was forced to attend.

Now mind you ... as I sat there in the office being scrutinized by these 4 men, my panties continued to play the tune 'Love Me Tender'. It was priceless, watching these men try to keep a straight face and be serious. I began to unzip my shorts,but was informed by my steward that a display of the offending garment would not be necessary.

I explained the fact that I could not stop the music, and refused to remove my underwear unless they could provide me with another (clean and new) pair to wear first, at the cost of the PO. In other words ... I would not go 'without'. Furthermore, I told them they could not dictate my undergarments unless they were going to be covered by my uniform allotment.

It ended up as a simple request not to wear 'musical' undies in the future ... a request, not an order. I left the office whistling the tune in accompaniment to my underwear. I completed my rounds that day, and the 'talk' about the day’s events did not die down for weeks. Of course before all was said and done... people were saying the tune being played by my panties was 'Blow the Man Down'.

Silver Farr
Retired – Branch 782

When I started with the Postal Service in 1999, I had no idea what I was getting into. We did everything by hand for 9 months, when they took our LMS machine out and while we were waiting on our DBCS machine. There would be lines of us at letter cases sorting mail by zip code for hours and hours. We got to know each other very well. Everyone was so helpful. There was such a diverse group of people, bikers, cowboys, teachers, all working at the same goal, to move the mail. We were proud to do the job at hand and proud to work for the United States Postal Service!

Asking someone to volunteer their time during the Christmas Holiday season is probably a difficult task. The words may stream forth with ease as though they were small stones in a quick flowing stream. Somewhere in the back of your mind you know you are asking someone to donate their time and effort to perform a mission of mercy. Also, no easy task is answering that call to action. Visions come to mind of getting stuck… literally, up the proverbial stream with no paddle and not even the slightest current to push you along.

Now, remember that this is only a few days before the Christmas holiday. Last minute Christmas shopping, gifts that need wrapping, the wife - children – relatives, time off the job…. all instill visions of horror, such as long lines and ill-tempers. But, “Could you play Santa Claus to a little girl who wrote a letter to Santa asking for nothing for herself - but the smallest of things for her little sisters and brother who are not fortunate enough to afford a Christmas with lots of gifts under their tree?” My heart went out to that little girl. Forgetting that old adage – "Never volunteer for anything", I say - “Sure, here I am sarge! Front and center! Reporting for duty”! I clocked out at 1700 (5:00PM) and began the task of loading the gifts (one frozen 10 lb. Tom Turkey, several stuffed dolls and animals and a few Hot Wheels toy cars) into a 775 tub and then into my vehicle, carefully remembering to take Melissa’s letter with me just in case. After poring through the Thomas Guide to locate the address on little Melissa’s letter, I found myself smiling and whistling as I drove down the 405 freeway toward Sepulveda, California, 91343-6743 (postal employee right to the end, don’t forget your Zip + 4).

Parking was almost non-existent. The streets not well-lit. The atmosphere very inner-city. My thoughts ranging the gamut from self recrimination, “why oh why did I say, yes?” to the old “flight” syndrome. Run, run, run away. But I took hold of my senses and found a parking space about half a block away. While walking to Melissa’s apartment building, my arms full, I tried to conjure up nice thoughts; angels atop tall fragrant Christmas trees with brightly wrapped gifts stacked underneath or sugar plum fairies, etc. So the building was in disrepair. So it was a three-story walk-up to Melissa’s apartment. So what if I would return to find my car up on cinder blocks, all four tires missing and my stereo gone!

I began to think of what I would say as I knocked on her door. Maybe just a simple, “it’s Santa”! “Kinda south of your usual route, aren’t ya Santa?” Well, knock on her door I did. A timid voice from within answered, “who is it?” I am not sure what made me say it – but out popped “Santa”. The response from inside saying, “Who?” Once again, I answered, “Santa” – and added, “from the United States Postal Service”. Still no recognition in her voice and the same response once again, “who?” “Your daughter wrote a letter to Santa Claus and I’m from the United States Postal Service with gifts for Melissa and her family.” Aha, that’s the ticket! The door opened and there was Melissa, her mom and several siblings all wide-eyed and standing neatly in a row, behind their mom. I quickly fished Melissa’s letter from my pocket and proceeded to explain how the entire system worked. As I pulled each gift from the 775 tub, the children could barely hide their excitement. They quickly rushed forward pushing their mom to the side. I said that if it weren’t for Melissa’s excellent letter that none of this would be happening. With that said, Melissa’s mother’s eyes began to water ever so slightly. She could hardly believe what was transpiring. She tried to thank me, while at the same time reaching to shake my hand. Melissa’s younger brother had his hands full with those Hot Wheels cars, loudly squealing, “Vrooom, vrooom” as he ran back into the apartment. Melissa’s two sisters had their arms wrapped so tightly around their stuffed toys, I thought they may need CPR.

As I handed the turkey to Melissa’s mom, no words needed to be said. Her expression was more than enough. Finally there was the gift for Melissa, a beautiful, big teddy bear wearing a back-pack filled with other goodies. Melissa was overjoyed. Her mother’s expressions ranging back and forth from pride to happiness. I wished them all a very Merry Christmas and knew that somewhere north of Canada, Santa was smiling, knowing that his work was made easier by the United States Postal Service and it’s legion of elves. So, as for the question, “to volunteer or not to volunteer”, the question answers itself with no words needed to be spoken.

When you have someone lose it in the Post Office, every community in the United States can understand because it’s in their community also. It’s not like Ford Motor Company where maybe there are 5 plants in the United States, well those five cities would feel if someone came in and shot their supervisor but, in the Postal Service, every community in the United States would feel that because they had that business right there in their community.

When we went from Post Office to the Postal Reorganization Act, one of the drivers was the people in Congress who said if you want to be your own thing we’ll let you be your own thing, don’t come back to us for anything, that is we are going to have a true separation, and it worked fine for about 15 years until the people that were in Congress were no longer in Congress. You had the new people coming in that didn’t have a clue about the history. You go back and start repeating some of those problems and the people in Congress now, with the rare exception, were not around in 1970 or before so you have people thinking they can do this better and the problems begin again.

As a Clerk, one of the things you had to do was to learn how the letter carrier would deliver the mail. Back then it was manually sorted. We would go from manual to mechanized and then to automated, but back then you had to learn schemes to break it down, sort it, or distribute it. So I went in there and my first week was spent learning the scheme; that’s how you started.

Fortunately, the unions would be the cause of the Postal Reorganization Act and be able to get collective bargaining, and the world changed and it changed in ways that many people could not believe and some couldn’t accept, but it was good, it stabilized the workforce and people began to get true rights rather than going to Congress and begging for our salaries and our benefits. We were able to go to the negotiating table and get it. I was on both sides of that, I saw the transition and it was good.

When the Post Office became the Postal Service, a quasi corporation if you will, the philosophy of management changed so they would get along with you and people would work towards service standards and it really was different, and pretty soon they were pushing you harder and the pressures were different. When I was a kid, I remember everyone knew their mailman and we got mail twice a day. People don’t remember that. Businesses got mail three times a day, but as it had to fund for itself and take care of itself, it became more of a corporation over the years and that change, if you will, affects the people or the workforce with it.