Post Office

Many people bash the post office these days, but as for my experience, the post office does a great job delivering manuscripts and packages to the various editors who say, "Sure, send me your odd little ideas and your paltry work, you hack."

The post office stays in business, due in large part, to my support. I buy stamps every week. Lots of em. Piles of em. I have rapport with the post office staff. I waltz in and say, "Give me the usual." I get a roll of stamps and two eggs over easy. I ask for "the works" and the post office staff gives me a sheet of one dollar stamps and fifty post card stamps. I ask for "the Alleycat" and they give me three padded mailers and a roll of seventeen centers.

Although I use the post office every week, I would, of course, much rather hand-deliver my work to editors. I'd much rather meet with them face-to-face so that they could see that I'm just a normal idiot who has a writing problem.

One of these days I'm going to order a post office uniform from a uniform shop. I'm going to gather my best work and track down those unsuspecting editors who could use my work, and I'm going to visit them in their offices. I'll walk in and say, "Delivery for Mr. Editor!"

And then I can add, "Of course, I'm just a postman, but I've read the contents of this envelope, and you'd be an idiot if you didn't publish this stuff."

That's the real benefit of the post office. Literary clout.