Just Call Me Don Quixote

I have spent the past few weeks tilting at windmills and undoubtedly at one of the most frustrating windmills I could have ever taken on: the US Postal Service.

I had no choice because about a month or so ago, my mail stopped coming. Oh, I got a few things, but important stuff like bills and paychecks weren't coming. Next thing I knew, I was getting calls from people like my insurance agent, trying to verify my address because their bill to me had been returned. What in the world...?

I had no idea what could be going on. Everyone who got their mail to me returned had used my correct address, the one where I have lived for seventeen months now. And before that, I lived only a few blocks away. My mail carrier has been the same for the entire four years I have lived in J-Ward; he knows me well, both my name and my new address. I knew he wasn't the problem.

So where was my mail and why had it suddenly started being returned? I called my Post Office and spoke to the supervisor. He hadn't a clue what was up, but said he'd check on it and call me back. After not hearing from him, I called him back. He was mystified, but promised to talk to my carrier and figure it out.

When he didn't call back again, I went to my carrier. He was at a loss. He'd checked my name and address in the system and I had indeed disappeared. Despite having received my mail with no problem for sixteen months at this address, a glitch had occurred and now I no longer existed. My mail wasn't even making it as far as where he picks it up each morning.

Okay, back to the supervisor. "I've been here over 30 years and I've never seen anything like this. It's like you were pulled out of the system, except that you weren't." Well, that solves everything, sir.

After our fourth conversation of him marveling at the oddness of my situation, but offering no solutions, I asked who might be able to better assist me. His frustration must have been nearly as great as mine because he suggested calling the Postmaster. Now we were getting somewhere.

Except that the Postmaster was out of town. His secretary was gracious enough to connect me to someone in the office whom she was certain could figure it out. After extensive discussion, that person admitted to being flummoxed, too. "This doesn't make any sense. It shouldn't be happening." Now there's a conclusion long ago reached.

But she did call me back later with the news that someone in Data Management might have figured it out and possibly even corrected it. We wouldn't know for sure for a few days because apparently their system moves slower than the polar icecap. But she was hopeful.

As for me, well, I didn't get any mail the past two days, either, but I'm going to give the USPS until tomorrow to acknowledge my presence on the planet again.

What if someone has written me the most romantic letter of my life and it's lost out there in the nether regions of snail mail? I'm sorry, that just won't do, USPS. Get your act together.