Please, Mr. Postman!

One of the unforeseen byproducts of starting this company is the increasing familiarity I have gained with the neighborhood post office.  I have always had a special place in my heart for postal workers, but my experience over these past few weeks has cemented that appreciation.

Sure waiting in those long lines can be quite frustrating and it sometimes DOES seem as though the workers aren't exactly "into" their jobs.  However, put yourself in their shoes.  You work eight hours a day, dealing with people who want to ship this to X or that to Y.  Also, due to the really complicated way the post office is set up, it is highly likely that us Post Office customers will need extra help or assistance to get our shipping needs met.  Regardless of how fast the postal worker meets a customer's needs, there's always another customer waiting and then another and another.  The postal worker gets paid the same whether they provide service to one or all of us and there is no bonus for being fast.  However, EVERY TIME I have gotten to the front of the line (a mini victory in and of itself) I am greeted by a friendly postal worker, which somehow makes me feel the wait in line was worth it.  Further, they always ask about how my cookie business is doing and have come to calling me the "cookie lady" - a title which I will gladly accept!

So why this love for the post office?  I believe it started when I was a young girl.  I was a lucky child in that I lived with both my parents (who both worked) and grandparents (who were retired).  When I was really young, four or five, I used to get the privilege of walking with my grandpa to the post office every Wednesday.  That was bill-mailing day (when we used to actually have to PUT stamps on bills and drop them in the Mail - crazy, I know!).  Now, to many people this would be a chore, but to a four-year old it was quite the adventure.  We would walk up Humphrey Street to Grand Ave.  Then down Grand to the post office, where I would GET to drop the mail into the slot.  On really special trips I got to pick out the stamps!  Then we would walk back down Juniata.  Grandpa would hold my hand, tell me stories, many of which I can't remember the details.  I'd do some skipping, probably some jumping up and down at some point and we'd be home.

So these days, as I'm lugging my packages of cookies to the post office I find my mind wandering back to those trips with Grandpa to the Post Office.  Even when the line is a mile long and moving interminably slow, I can't help but enjoy the fact that that just means more time to reminisce on my time with Grandpa.  Of course, Grandpa is a BIG fan of the cookies we bake as well.  I tried to get him to tell me what his favorite type of cookie was once.  He would only respond that he liked them all - because I made them.  So in honor of Grandpa, and his love for ALL of the cookies - here's a photo of the variety package (and yes, I made all the ones in the picture, too!)