I swear I blinked and four weeks passed by, possibly six, but who’s counting. One minute I was in orientation for the Post Office, the next I was starting at 4 a.m. and then I had to go back to Minneapolis for seven days of 8 hour classes that ended with a pass / fail test.
Getting out of bed and on the road in the 5 o’clock hour wasn’t difficult, but sitting in a class room that looked like it was inside an actual Post Office was pretty tough. They gave us a text book that is slightly over an inch thick and told us we’d be learning everything in this book over the next 6 days. The last day of class would be study time until test time.
I imagined it would be like history class in high school. Sure, they give you a text book but you skip some sections, you jump around and hopefully you remember some of the dates and numbers thrown at you.
This was nothing like that.
The instructor read from the text book word for word in almost all of the sections. The sections she didn’t read we had to read or some had videos that went over the information.
You could take notes, you could highlight your book but you couldn’t take either one of them home and your phone was locked away. Half of my classmates were repeat takers, they failed the first and some a second time.
HALF OF THEM!
I’ve been out of school for so long I was even sure I remember how to learn! (LOL)
The classes were long, the information was slightly outdated but we had to learn it by the book standards because any thing stated in the book could potentially be on the test…
By day two I was dizzy with information overload. The pop quizzes at the start, middle and end of classes made all the confidence I had dwindle to NOTHING. It was too much too fast and we couldn’t even study outside the classroom.
Imagine being given a tiny bucket. Imagine your instruction standing, covid friendly, six feet away and then imagine that instructor starts projectile vomiting information directly at you and you have to try and catch it all in your tiny bucket.
It’s just as messy as it sounds. I don’t think one of us was prepared to take it, but the three of us newbies passed. I’m not sure the same went for the re-takers, although I do know that a couple of them were on their last chance. They would have to resign if they couldn’t beat the test.
It was a miracle I passed. The test, although they say, isn’t designed to make you fail felt like it was.
Champagne and wine were the answer to a brain that felt like mush.
It’s over, the hard part is done, you’d think…but you’d be wrong. I started behind the counter training the next day. I assumed my bartending people skills would be put to good use…wrong again! Turns out the people that go the Post Office are not the same people that go to bars. My friendly little, “hey how’s it going” ice breakers were not taken a liking to.
It was exhausting. There is so much to learn and so many things that need to happen correctly for items to get sent. Making sure you put them in the right places, making sure they pieces are sent using the right mode, there are different rules with everything and the little parts of my brain that hadn’t melted were mush by the end of those 3 days.
My on the job trainer said that some of the stuff I was getting she hadn’t seen in 20 years. Every time I was up at the counter I kept getting difficult tasks after difficult tasks and the line would start to build up, she would say, “I’m going to take over until the line is smaller” and guess what…. all she did was sell stamps!
She thought it was hilarious that I got all of these difficult tasks and when she took over it was stamps after stamps. It didn’t seem funny until it happened again and again and again. We’d just look at each other, shake our heads and laugh.
When I was solo, I sent something to China, doing an international customs form was not the easiest and my OJT was at lunch so HOPEFULLY I did that right because that package wasn’t cheap. We also set up Non-Profit businesses and had someone get a new form of a passport, which I still don’t think I understand.
The people that came in to the Post Office might not be bar customers but my co-workers (at the training facility) sure were. We especially talked about the beers we earned that Friday night.
All in all, it’s ok. I’m not stationed at my facility with no login or password almost a month later so technically I can’t work behind the counter. I mostly work in the back, starting at 4 am until the parcels are done then I get to leave for sometime and go back in the afternoon.
I’m extremely happy it’s not 8 straight hours, that might kill me. My shoulders haven’t ever been so sore and I’m beat by the end of the day.
This is not a forever job for me. It’s a foot in the door. Going to bed before my kids on the weekend makes me feel
LAME AS FUCK.
Being a drinker trying to adjust to a coffee only lifestyle has been especially difficult when the neighbors invite us over for beer pong and I have to leave before the pre-rounds even start. Instead of being the social butterfly I am, I’m forced to be a worker bee but instead of the Queen I’m working for the man.
On the positive side of things, it’s amazing how many hours are actually in a day when you wake up at 3:15! Having your work day done by 10 am is pretty amazing but the physical and lameness have to change!
I hope you are well!
Namaste,
Jes xoxo