Community Voices for Health

By: Kathy Trainor

This Friday, right before I left my day job, I was asked if I could go to the post office to return an item we didn’t need at my work place. This is something that was simple to do on the way home from my office. 

I arrive at the post office, grab the box and my method of payment, tucking my purse and phone under my seat as to carry light since the box was rather big. I enter the line; and when my time comes, approach the counter as the postal worker asks me if I need insurance or tracking on the package. I state just tracking and complete a seamless transaction.

I return to my car to my phone with 3 text messages and a phone message to call my office. The person returning the package wanted to insure it was headed to the right location and after checking my receipt with tracking number confirmed the destination. As I begin to drive home about a mile up the road, my phone rings. It is my co-worker stating she thinks the package can not be returned at all as it states no on the  website. I turn around quickly back to the post office and rush inside hoping to get the package.

There are about 3 people ahead of me and the post master appears to know what my needs are before I can even speak…

He says to me, “I hope you don’t need that package back. It is on a truck to distribution and then to state master location for further delivery”

In shock, I say, ” Is there a way to stop it?

He responded: “You must call this number and drive to the distribution center on the industrial park”

I shout, ” Thank you!” quickly grab the paper and run out the door .

I franticly call the number and get a person on the phone as a run to my car. I explain I need to stop a package from going to Maryland, and I can be there in 15 min. I hang up abruptly. I call my co-worker back and explain I will get the package and call them back when I have it.

After slightly disobeying the speed limit, I arrive at the distribution center where the man from my frantic phone call greats me with my package. I ask how I can get my money back for the shipment that never happened. He explains that I need to return to the main post office with the box and the receipt and request a refund. I call back my co worker and giggle. I explain I now need to go back to the main office to get the money back.

They are in shock, and we joke it is a horrible sitcom that should be called “Guiding Boxes”

I drive back to the main post office where the postmaster looks at me again and says, “I have been expecting you.”  

We both giggle, and I am able to attain my refund with no further hiccups.  We wish each other a thank you and a happy weekend, and I am on my way.

I return to my place of work about an hour after I left and drop the box on my co-workers desk and state, “I don’t want this box anymore”

The whole room laughed and I went home with a smile, a giggle, a sitcom and a blog post now called  “Guiding Boxes: The Day I Chased a Mail Truck.”