Friday
Oct012010
Empathy for the Mailman
Friday, October 1, 2010 at 5:43AM
As I am now a seasoned wanderer up and down people's drives , knocking on doors or delivering flyers, I have come to appreciate the job of the postman so much more.
A large proportion of the streets in America actually have their mailboxes conveniently located at the end of their driveway; a little wooden stand with a metal box on top. This means the mailman can just drive up to each box in his van, lean out, and deposit whatever post you have. He will also collect mail you need to send from your post box, which is a really nice service. Saves hunting for a mail box on the street. It also means that residents get a nice little walk down their drive to collect their mail. (Not so great in the winter).
In a lot of the small neighbourhoods I have been walking through however, perhaps more in lower-class areas, the mailboxes are located on the side of house, usually right next to the front door. Regardless of that, in delivering election materials, I cannot use the mailbox, as it is illegal. Therefore either way, I have to walk up the path or driveway, right up to the house. I have already spoken about the fun game of finding a place to put the literature, but increasingly I also have to play the game of finding the best route to the front door.
Jumping over overgrown bushes, dodging spider's webs. Tripping up over hose pipes. Brushing past prickly things. I have even had to navigate my way over broken pathways, holes in the ground, crumbling stairs, and half complete decking. Today I had a new obstacle: The Sprinkler. I saw it spinning over the path, and thought to myself "OK, it's just moved over the path, I can walk up it now, wait at the door for it to go around again, and then walk back down." No problem right? Well I got to the door, and was just about to place my flyer in the door handle when I noticed something that made me stop; I looked up, and saw the door was wet. Before I could put two and two together, it hit me. A blast of water from the sprinkler. Who positions the sprinkler so that it hits their own front door every time it rotates? Thankfully it was a nice sunny day and I dried off fast.
Increasingly, I have had to deal with infestations of these little black and red flying bugs. Boxelder bugs. Some houses are just swarming with them, and they fall onto you as you push the leaflet through the door handle or behind the mailbox. Or else they fly into you.
And then there are the dogs. Now I like to think of myself as a dog person, but some of these houses really make me think twice. In most, the dogs are just obnoxiously loud, barking as they see you, or hear you at the door; you can just tell them to shut up, and carry on. The little ones are usually the loudest/yappiest. Occasionally, when the door of the house opens, they will run on out to you, and usually just lick you, if the owner is present. Some might jump up in excitement once, but that's it. At other houses though, you find large dogs literally patrolling the perimeter, daring you to take a foot onto the drive. There are times when the owner isn't in site, and the dog isn't on a lead. Today there was a really ferocious dog barking and baring it's teeth at me, as I got closer, running alongside me I was walked along its yard on the road. Better skip that house I thought. The next house had two dogs patrolling, again not on leads, but these were quiet. A golden retriever and a big black mongrel. I edged in slowly; no hurtling dogs in my face. They both sniffed my hands, and I stroked their heads, and everything seemed well. As I walked towards the door though, they both started circling my feet, and the black one kept jumping up at me, front claws on my back or my chest. I couldn't take a step forward because of them. Another abandoned house, but no harm done.
Long and short of it; I wouldn't like to return to these types of houses everyday, as the postman here must have to do!
A large proportion of the streets in America actually have their mailboxes conveniently located at the end of their driveway; a little wooden stand with a metal box on top. This means the mailman can just drive up to each box in his van, lean out, and deposit whatever post you have. He will also collect mail you need to send from your post box, which is a really nice service. Saves hunting for a mail box on the street. It also means that residents get a nice little walk down their drive to collect their mail. (Not so great in the winter).
In a lot of the small neighbourhoods I have been walking through however, perhaps more in lower-class areas, the mailboxes are located on the side of house, usually right next to the front door. Regardless of that, in delivering election materials, I cannot use the mailbox, as it is illegal. Therefore either way, I have to walk up the path or driveway, right up to the house. I have already spoken about the fun game of finding a place to put the literature, but increasingly I also have to play the game of finding the best route to the front door.
Jumping over overgrown bushes, dodging spider's webs. Tripping up over hose pipes. Brushing past prickly things. I have even had to navigate my way over broken pathways, holes in the ground, crumbling stairs, and half complete decking. Today I had a new obstacle: The Sprinkler. I saw it spinning over the path, and thought to myself "OK, it's just moved over the path, I can walk up it now, wait at the door for it to go around again, and then walk back down." No problem right? Well I got to the door, and was just about to place my flyer in the door handle when I noticed something that made me stop; I looked up, and saw the door was wet. Before I could put two and two together, it hit me. A blast of water from the sprinkler. Who positions the sprinkler so that it hits their own front door every time it rotates? Thankfully it was a nice sunny day and I dried off fast.
And then there are the dogs. Now I like to think of myself as a dog person, but some of these houses really make me think twice. In most, the dogs are just obnoxiously loud, barking as they see you, or hear you at the door; you can just tell them to shut up, and carry on. The little ones are usually the loudest/yappiest. Occasionally, when the door of the house opens, they will run on out to you, and usually just lick you, if the owner is present. Some might jump up in excitement once, but that's it. At other houses though, you find large dogs literally patrolling the perimeter, daring you to take a foot onto the drive. There are times when the owner isn't in site, and the dog isn't on a lead. Today there was a really ferocious dog barking and baring it's teeth at me, as I got closer, running alongside me I was walked along its yard on the road. Better skip that house I thought. The next house had two dogs patrolling, again not on leads, but these were quiet. A golden retriever and a big black mongrel. I edged in slowly; no hurtling dogs in my face. They both sniffed my hands, and I stroked their heads, and everything seemed well. As I walked towards the door though, they both started circling my feet, and the black one kept jumping up at me, front claws on my back or my chest. I couldn't take a step forward because of them. Another abandoned house, but no harm done.
Long and short of it; I wouldn't like to return to these types of houses everyday, as the postman here must have to do!
Reader Comments (1)
I was sympathetic to your plight until you inserted and I saw the UGLY insect!!!! Was that really necessary. I got the idea from your description. That was enough for me! YUK. I hate bugs! I probably would have given up for the day, at least, if I had your experience. SOOOOOOOOOOO SORRY! I hope pounding the pavement gets better for you or even better, I hope that you meet some neat people on the way. Take care. I love your writing!