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Last Saturday, at 8:30 in the morning, I heard my mailbox rattle. Since I usually don't get the mail delivered until the late afternoon, I went to investigate. When I emptied my mailbox there were four pieces, one of which was actually addressed to me and three of which had the correct number, but the wrong street, and of course not my name: as in "4433 Main" instead of "4433 Spruce." Moreover, my name is not Linda Butterball.
So I took the three pieces of wrong mail, saw the mailman (who was still next door) and told him this wasn't my mail. I handed him Linda Butterball's mail and went back inside my house. The letter carrier seemed nervous, hurried, sweaty. He apologized.
Moments later, I heard another rattle.
Again, it was my mailbox. I went outside, checked the mail and then grabbed two more letters that had just been placed there. This time, it was my mail: two pieces he must have overlooked on the first run. Happy to get this extra mail, including a particularly important bill, I went back inside.
Then, not 30 seconds later, I heard the mailman again, and my box rattled. I went outside, looked in the mailbox and there they were: The three letters that I had just returned to the mailman just one minute and a half before. He had doubled back for the second time and then, in a two-minute period, had misdelivered to me three pieces of wrong mail on two separate occassions, even after I had pointed out the mistake.
My letter carrier was thin and fidgety and seemed hyper, and moved carelessly and rapidly, and I think he was under the influence of crack. I'm being serious.
This all leads to my question of the day: Should I have called the U.S. Postal Service to complain? Isn't it fair to surmise that he is probably misdelivering a bunch of people's mail? What would you do -- be a "narc," or be like my good friend Donna and "donna worry about"?
So I'm seeking your advice about what I should do. Please respond in the comments section. I'm counting on you.
And so is Linda Butterball.