I went to the USPS bulk mail center a few miles from my office. I went with fear and trembling because I had never been to this bulk mail center before and my past experience of bulk mail centers have not been very positive. I usually get scolded by some of the most unfriendly people in the world (this is not an exaggeration, I think these people are required to attend classes on how to be mean to people) for not having the forms filled out correctly or not having my mailing formatted properly. The excel in belittling people and causing most people to think twice before bringing another bulk mailing into their presence.
I was told by a USPS employee what entrance I should use at this particular bulk mail center. He told me not to go into the first gate because that is where all the semi-trucks go. I needed to enter the second driveway and take my bulk mailing into that part of the building. This sounded pretty straight forward to me. However, I was in no way prepared for what was to happen.
I entered the second driveway of the bulk mail center as instructed. The drive wound around and I followed the signs directing me to the visitors parking lot. I pulled into the visitors parking lot and realized that there was not a door anywhere near this parking lot. The closest door was half-way down the building. I saw someone go in this door and so I figured this is where I needed to enter. I trekked down to the door and then enter the door into the building. When I entered the building it was very dark. There was a window that was closed and all of the lights were off in the room behind the window. The entry area was also very dark and there were no signs that directed me as to where I might drop off my bulk mailing. I did see some sliding doors in front of me that looked like it went to the mail sorting area. I could hear machines running but it was hard to make out what was going on behind them because the glass was very dark. There were also things that looked like metal detectors in front of each door. I stood there for a while and then thought I would try to enter through one of the sliding doors hoping that someone would notice me and help me. As soon as I started walking towards of the dark windowed doors, I heard a buzzing alarm go off. Evidently you have to swipe a badge on these metal detector things in order to enter the doors. I didn't have a badge and the alarms were blaring. However, the strange thing was that no one seemed to care. The door didn't open but the alarm kept going off.
Finally, I was able to get some one's attention. I guess he heard the alarm or saw me looking lost. A postal employee came out of the dark room that had the window. I told the man that I was there to drop off my bulk mailing. He looked at me and told me that I was in the wrong place. I asked him where I was supposed to go and he told me he really didn't know for sure. He thought that I was supposed to go through the other entrance (the entrance I was told not to enter) and find a door someplace over there to take my mailing. I walked out of the building wondering how in the world the postal service has made it as long as it has. Customer service is not a part of their culture or even really on their radar screen.
So, I drove back to the other entrance where all the signs said I should not enter because I am not a semi truck. I drove up to the guard house. Of course, the guard house widow is designed to accommodate someone driving an eighteen wheeler not a Volkswagen Beetle. So, I rolled down the window and hollered up at the man in the guard booth to tell him that I was looking for the place to take my bulk mailing. I held up my tiny box of postcards as a kind of offering to the mailing gods. He scowled down at me and told me to pull over next to a white car with a yellow flashing light on it and a supervisor would lead me over to the entrance to the bulk mail drop off place. I thought this was a little weird that I needed an escort, but if it enabled me to get my bulk mailing sent, I would do whatever they told me to do.
Shortly after I pulled beside the white car, a minivan pulled up on the other side of the white car. A few minutes later, the supervisor came out and got in the white car. He led us through a parking lot designed for the parking and maneuvering of semi trucks. It was huge. I understood why I needed an escort. One wrong turn and my Beetle could have been squashed by a semi truck on the pavement. I pulled up to a huge loading dock and got out with my one little box of mail. It seemed rather absurd when I realized that there were tractor trailers full of mail out on the vast parking lot.
The supervisor disappeared to supposed look for a person to help us. The woman from the city parks department and I got acquainted. We introduced ourselves and traded bulk mail horror stories. She told me that we needed to pray that we got the man to wait on us and not the woman who works there. She said the man was very helpful and nice. She said the woman was very rude and would find something with our bulk mailings and may not allow us to mail them. So, I began praying. After a while a woman walked in the room and I started panicking. She asked us if we had been helped and we told her that the supervisor guy was off someplace looking for someone to help us. She walked behind the desk and dialed the phone. She said that she would find someone to help us. I then realized that this was not the rude woman that I had been warned to fear. She then looked through the window on the door to the room where we were and said that the guy that needed to help us was on the other side of the door. She pounded on the glass and got his attention. Then she left the room and a few minutes later the man came in to help us.
I thought that since the "nice man" was helping us we were home free. Not so. He was nice however, he told me that in the future I needed to have my mailing organized in numeric order by zip code. He said this made it easier to process. I wondered to myself if this process got any harder on the customers bringing the mailing and easier on the postal service employees whose job it is to sort and deliver the mail, eventually, they would require us to deliver the mail too. They would just collect our money and be totally unhelpful.
After my mailing passed inspection by the skin of my teeth, I was done. The supervisor magically resurfaced and got in his white car with the yellow flashing light and led me to the gate. He waved at me and I rolled down the window. He asked me to turn in my badge. I told him I didn't have a badge. I asked him if I needed a badge and he told me that sometimes they give bulk mailers a badge to wear while in the bulk mail zone. I guess the guy in the guard booth couldn't reach down to give me a badge. I could have opened my sun roof and he could have thrown one down to me. Maybe next time.
So, I after nearly an hour at the bulk mail center and lots of lost productivity for Habitat, I returned to the office to share the story of the bulk mail drama with my co-workers. The Office Manager told me that next time we would use the bulk mail center in downtown Cincinnati. I'll let you know how that goes. My suggestion is that you avoid the bulk mail center in your town if at all possible.
Thanks for being a part of my journey!
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