Mail Guy
Tales from an Entry-Level Life
By Stephanie Kong

I was so excited. After two years of temping and six months of unemployment, I had landed my dream job.   I was excited about the opportunity, the potential, the challenges. So excited, that is, until I met Mail Guy.

   If you have ever lived any kind of an entry-level life, you have encountered Mail Guy. Whether he is named Joe, Bob, George or any seemingly innocuous moniker, Mail Guy is universally standard.   He is usually about 40 to 50 years old, portly, belligerent and absolutely convinced that the fate of the universe hinges on his ability to pick up mail at 10 am and 2 pm.   He may also have a penchant for suspenders.

            I first encountered Mail Guy as a fresh-faced college graduate working at a market research company. I would reflect fondly on my hard-earned degree every time Mail Guy would supervise my ability to sign for FedEx deliveries.   Not only would he draw an X and point, he would also stand six inches from my face, glare as I initialed each line, and breathe heavily into my ear.   Now that's customer service.

            You can never argue with Mail Guy -- he is, after all, never wrong—so you must employ tricky stratagem to assert your power. I found Mail Guy's Achilles heel when I realized that he wouldn't accept any substitute for the phrase “ream of paper”—technical Mail Guy jargon, of course. When calling to request paper, I would use any random word in place of “ream”--block, box, thing, package, unit… you get the picture.   The stranger the word, the more wrath was incurred, the more personal enjoyment I observed.   Ring, ring. “Hey Mail Guy, can you please bring me a thingamadingdong of paper?   You're a doll!   Thanks!   Byeee!”   Click.   Stephanie 1, Mail Guy 0.

            I'm convinced that Mail Guy at my new place of employment thinks that I am an absolute idiot.   He appears incredibly perturbed that I haven't mastered his intricate shipping system after an entire 6 days of work.   Today, after I tried to clarify a question, he told me “You just ain't listening!”   I ain't listening?!   No, Mail Guy, YOU ain't listening!   YOU ain't listening to the back of my hand!   Wapow!

            Fantasies aside, there really is no point in getting angry over Mail Guy's behavior or taking his insults personally.   You could be the CEO of a multi-million dollar empire and Mail Guy would still puff out his gut and try to convince you that you and your company would be nothing without his midday mail round-ups and his ability to restock the paper trays in the printers.

            Yes, the business world could not function without the contributions of Mail Guy.   Luckily, like cockroaches, they will always be around.   Through natural disasters, nuclear holocausts, and the dreaded “company reorganization,” Mail Guy will always survive.   And in the off chance that Mail Guy Bob doesn't survive, there's always Larry to take his place.