Going, going, gone postal

Gerry worked at the last slot in the line of postal clerks, tossing mail and change the way Tom Cruise tossed barware and alcohol in the movie "Cocktail.” Gerry smiled. Gerry sang. Gerry hip bumped passing co-workers.

He gives a whole new meaning to the idea of going postal.

Maybe Gerry isn’t always so jubilant and enthusiastic. Maybe the day I went in to mail my passport renewal he happened to have too much coffee or win the lottery or realize he’s in love. Or it could be he is the type of person who regularly walks on air just for the sheer enjoyment of being alive.

I don’t know. What is clear is that his attitude was infectious. I suddenly went from simply crossing a chore off my to-do list to thinking the folks buying stamps from other, more sedate clerks must be envious. Entering an actual post office for service usually means sending holiday packages or taxes — both which usually mean lines akin to a Bulgarian soup kitchen and a collective attitude to match. Needless to say, the idea of getting out of the car and going inside a post office is a pain even when it doesn’t involve snaking crowds of impatient people. There was a moment after sealing my envelope at home when I eyeballed it and seriously considered making an educated estimate as to how many stamps I’d need to cover the weight.

Thankfully the idea of having my old passport and renewal documents lost in transit or returned for lack of adequate postage was enough to replace laziness with sense. For my trouble, I was rewarded with the likelihood my mail will arrive at its destination and I got some face time with somebody who apparently loves his job.

Gerry (at least I think that’s the name I read on his tag; it was a bit hard to see with all the twisting and twirling he was doing) sized up the envelope I handed him and guessed the postage near-accurately before lobbing it on the scale. Figuring out what I was sending, he recommended certified mail over delivery notification. He said it was cheaper. I think maybe he just wanted an excuse to use the certified mail stamp.

Bam! With one snappy swing down with the stamp and a John Travolta spin, my envelope was ready for tracking and Gerry seemed ready for Dancing With The Stars.

"You need stamps? Everybody needs stamps!” he said.

I kind of wished I needed more postage just to see what sleight of hand or performance art he could manage with a sheet of self-adhesive stamps.

But didn’t Gerry know the Internet is the enemy of the post office, much like newspapers? Online shopping and bill paying is doing away with the need for postage. Isn’t that the reason the post office made news last week, announcing a possible switch to a five-day delivery week (and generating grumbles about the weekday chosen, the cost of postage, the failing economy, you name it)?

And doesn’t Gerry know that the current troubled economy spells doom and gloom for all? Isn’t everybody miserable and teetering on the edge of a meltdown, toiling away at jobs they hate but fear losing? Isn’t it just a matter of time until everybody cracks?

Yet, for those few minutes in the post office, you wouldn’t know the world was anything other than filled with sunshine and happiness. To watch somebody like Gerry appear to get satisfaction from his job, you’d think there was still the chance some workers actually enjoy the hours they spend earning paycheck. Weird.

Again, I know nothing about this gentleman other than the way he lifted my spirits and made my workday that much better.

Say what you like about the U.S. Postal Service — and its plans to trim service — but if Gerry personifies what it’s like to go postal, I want to go, too.

Michelle Durand’s column "Off the Beat” runs every Tuesday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 102. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.