the first night... or was it morning?

the first night was a psychological breaking experiment. it was designed i'm sure to weed out the weak and only train the strongest among us that the usps was only going to accept the sharpest of candidates for the back breaking and mind reducing work it had in mind. we were to report at midnight the next monday... this was a thursday that we were told this. waitaminute someone picked up on this... was this sunday night or monday that we to be there. in other words, were we to be there on sunday night 11.59pm to be there at 12am monday or did the trainer misspeak and intend it to mean 11.59pm monday and therefore we would be working into tuesday early morning? the trainer was a little bit thrown. oh, monday she said. she was a middle aged middle management woman who would not be there to train us, that was to be left to others. she wasn't used to letting her mind do mental flip flops while it is working third shift in order to make sense of the scheduling while you were still a naturally born diurnal animal. monday, she said. we repeated the question, still unsure. she said monday, still not sure of what we were trying to figure out. oh well, i left with the rest of our small training class of potential sleepwalkers figuring that we were to come in sunday night. enjoy your weekend she called after us.
sunday night came and after a day spent trying to sleep unsuccessfully, i stumbled in and announced myself to the heavy set man sitting at a desk playing computer solitaire on his laptop that i was here for the training session. he looked at me suspiciously, but admitted me with the sight of my new training badge. he was, after all, on the job earning a hard earned usps pension. there must have been something alot more crafty about him that wasn't given away by his poker-faced appearance for he was accepted by the order of the blue eagle and allowed to drink coffee from his poker hand vending machine while dressed in a t-shirt and blue jeans keeping the nations mail safe froma variety of nefarious midnight intruders. at least when he decided to pull his attention away from the solitaire hand.
we met again in the same room that we had last sat in, what was it two or three days ago? i tried to figure it out. was this considered another whole day even though it had only officially begun a minute or two ago? i wasn't sure, but then noone was. we sat uneasily saying our heys and hellos, trying not look as tired as we were feeling, not wanting to be the first to yawn first.
at last, our trainers came into the room. they were a young olive complectioned man named tony and a middle aged woman named beverly who looked as though she had drank far too many cups of coffee at hours of the night that most people were asleep. they were a team who worked in the main sorting floor on a machine called the DBCS. the delivery bar code sorter for short. to a postal service worker and member of the order, everything is explained in short by acronyms. it makes everything seem to make sense in a crazy mixed up world where you are bombarded by several thousands of pieces of mail hourly.
for the rest of the night, tony and beverly expertly set us up with hours of video tapes to keep us company while they went back to their machine and got some real work done. we received large white binders filled with oodles and oodles of photocopies that some hard worker put alot of time and effort into photocopying directly from 20 year old training books. we received the best training that government administered agency could supply in 1984. we were bombarded with videos on the history and origin of that unique morse code that is the usps's zip code, postal regulations, how to run the DBCS, clean it and take care of it if you were left on a desert island alone with the behemoth. i knew that many in my training class were falling prey to the very real temptation of sleeping at a quarter to 4 in the morning in a darkened room with the soft buzz of the tape hissing in the VCR, but i was alert to the very watchful eyes that were undoubtedly watching us from the corners of the blue eagle's aptitude police. i was set in my mind to pas this test and not fall asleep at some critical juncture and miss how to properly determine the difference in canceling a first class flat and a flat of media mail.
then the final tape. it was perhaps the most important one of all for it starred the then, huge hollywood star that was edward james olmos of 'miami vice' fame. how they landed him was beyond me, but you could be sure that olmos resplendent in his pastel suit and 1/4" thin skinny tie was in his element. part actor, part order of the blue eagle spokesman and part cop to be sure, he whispered the strong threat that working for the usps was a serious business and that the usps took it seriously too. he informed us that the usps had a strong arm postal police that would be watching us, was watching us now and guarded the public from the evil doings of thieves, rule breakers and sluggards on a daily basis. they were everywhere and to set an example, he gave us several. there was the lesson of the PDC employee who broke into little kids birthday cards to steal the 5 bucks from grandma who was caught and dragged away in front of his co-workers one day by two strong armed men in inexpensive suits and sunglasses and was now facing 20 years hard federal time. there was the rural carrier who was throwing away 'junk' mail (as if there IS any such thing!) rather than delivering it and there was the man who was fired after slacking off and now his family were blacklisted from the usps, its good pension and the respect of thousands of his fellow postal employees. lt. castillo urged his to inform our superiors of anything that we saw that was suspicious and not above the boards. if we did so, we earned theirs and the public's respect, not mention saving the usps an example of 20 thousand dollars just by identifying a malfunctioning mail sorting machine. it was a win/win situation for us and we exhorted to follow his example. how could we not, knowing that even twenty years ago, the usps was saving money up for the next big thing. they didn't even have to update their promotional videos. they were timeless and obviously appropriate for anyone at anytime.

casual work

casual work. defined as the following by the usps-

POSITION: Casual / Temporary Jobs

Temporary positions are not career positions. They are temporary positions that supplement the career work force, and employment in these positions are for a limited period of time. Taking an examination is not required for these positions, simply apply online and follow the "how to apply" directions below.

Casual appointments are limited to two 90-day appointments in a calendar year and 21 days during the Christmas holiday season. Casual employees at the Priority Mail Processing Centers (PMPCs) are hired for a period of 359 days, and can be reappointed for another 359 days following a 6-day break.

Qualified applicants for casual/temporary jobs must successfully pass a pre-employment drug screening to meet the U. S. Postal Service's Employment Requirements . Applicants must also be a U. S. citizen or have permanent resident alien status.

endquote... casual work sounds pretty inocuous as defined by the usps. it sounds like a summer job that you may have held as a teenager. casual work sounds like t-shirts and shorts, beach shoes and a tan. american citizen? can you pass a simple drug test? you, too can work for us! and work you will. casual employees fill in the gaps created by retirements, lunch and smoke breaks and holiday season surges in mail handling. casual employees study, they work, they sweat, they get passed from work station to work station, they get "asked" to work overtime, they receive no disability or insurance benefits, no union representation they work the least desirable hours. they work in something in between slavery and victorian sweatshop labor conditions. i worked for 8.50 an hour with no overtime to get my foot in the door. this was the beginning of my "casual" work.

the initial initiation

after a short interview with a tired regional supervisor who had travelled three hours to talk with a dozen of us about whether we had ever just walked off a job before and if so, why? i was hired, at long last. the question about whether we had ever walked off a job before without giving notice should have been a telling one, but i chalked it up to the usps' grand large scale interrogation of potential members. the supervisor was happy that i had never been fed up enough with a job to simply walk off and gave me a check mark for good character. afterwards, we instructed to walk down the hallway to the other end of the complex for photo id badges. we walked on past the swinging doors beyond which the sound of thrumming and constantly running machinery lay hidden. the machinations of the blue cult were patrolled by the security guard dressed in a t shirt at the front door. he was busily at work playing solitaire on his laptop when we walked by. after we had our photos taken by a digital camera that produced an off center fuzzy mugshot in which i was looking overly cheery like a mass murderer, we then had to make a final trip down another hall to medical. in the medical room we were given questionnaires to carefully fill out as to whether we had ever had any problems with our lower backs, legs, feet, arches, hands and any other body part that may interfere with us giving our 110% to our new jobs that offered no health insurance or medical benefits or worker's compensation. for the most part, my form was filled in with a perfect succession of no's checked off for the offending medical problems, until i got to one question which i didn't understand. it asked whether i qualified for class 8e status under military guidelines. i didn't know. this threw me, was this a trick question? was class 8e status desirable or not? i asked the nurse what it was. she stared for a second stonily. "i can't answer that for you," she told me with a tone that suggested that if i were intending upon bribing her for a satisfactory report, then i was not the special sort of candidate that the usps was looking for. but i don't understand i said, if i qualify for class 8e status or not. and if i did not know, never having been tested for class 8e status, how was i to truthfully give an answer to which the usps would hold me up to the highest sort of scrutiny for the whole truth and nothing but as to whether i qualified? "i CAN'T answer that for you." her tone told me that we were then being taped for future considerations and that i should know better than to ask her how to answer the question. end of story. i checked off 'NO.' reporting time was to be at 12 midnight the next night. they were softening us up through sleep deprivation to see whether we were fit to work for the blue cult. if we could stand up to reading stacks of badly photocopied copies of 20 year old mimeograms on everything from postal code dress regulations to the history of the zip code system, then maybe we were fit to stand up and be counted among the ranks of the casual workers. it began the next night.

the long flat grey concrete building at the end of the industrial parkway

the letter came. the secret society revealed itself to me. they wanted me to show up for an interview for a casual position. a casual position is loosely defined as a job with the post office that involves you working for them as much and as long as they want you to. by its definition a casual postion involves working part time hours, six days a week, six hours a night, 36 hours a week that typically are stretched out to 40 or more hours a week with no overtime pay, no benefits, no insurance and no hopes of advancing. the sword constantly hangs over your head for three months at a time depending upon whether the post office needs you for each three month period or not. but i was ready to do it. to get my foot in the door. i was ready to subject myself to working from midnight until 6am six days a week if that would advance myself in the high postal priests eyes.
i came in for the interview on a sunny mid-week afternoon and sat with a small conference room full of applicants. middle aged housewives, former fast food restaurant employees, people with a few problems to whom working a part time job for 9.50 an hour with no concrete hopes of continuing with a regular position was a step up. we sat around and chit chatted. half of the people had worked here before and then did things that were not mentioned in the conversation in between the irregular periods that the postal service no longer needed their services. it sounded like a modern day equivalent of building the transcontinental railroad. all types considered as long as you didn't mind long demanding hours and the possibility that you would be given your walking papers in a few months. everyone looked willing and able to accept that. we were temporary acolytes.
the applications were starting to be reviewed. i sat there and started to read the paperwork that we were being handed. welcome to the usps. the first memo detailed some of the responsibilities and expectations- its tough, its hard work, alot is expected of you. are you sure that you want an interview? we all did. the interviewers asked us the same thing and did a roll call. our applications were handed out to us. mine was missing. the 12 page application of work history, mental and health history, security and confidentiality agreements and tax forms that i had filled out twice in the past, the paper forms that had informed the usps that i was looking to be used as a temporary casual employee and had gotten me a letter and phone calls to show up at this long low flat concrete processing facility was missing. gone. not in the interviewers possession nor in the files of the local distribution secretary's cabinet. i was there. my name was there. but as far as the usps was concerned i was a ghost. did you fill out the application? i was asked. ok, fill out the forms again and await your interview. i grimly contemplated recalling my past ten years of work history, phone numbers and addresses and to put it to paper again. i proceeded to be a number in the usps's files once more. ps form 1073-5.34 deliberate omission of any relevant information regarding previous work history or health information will be considered a violation of the trust that the usps has put into you, the loyal and willing casual employee of the usps and will be punishable by more paperwork and forms to fill out...

the notice of rating

i studied and studied, the tests becoming more and more automatic. i was ordering and reordering street names, people's names in my head unconsciously. i was checking and double checking what i was reading in the newspaper, automatically proof reading the columns. studying for the post office entrance exam is alot like military training. it trains you to do things automatically and without hesitation and to do things efficiently. i felt like i was all that i could be, this was it, the post office had to have me now! i was a breed apart from the other lowly people around me. i was on my way to being a civil servant! i was going to be one of the few, the proud, the postal workers!
and then the day came. reveille sounded in my head and i arose in the still dark at 4 am, showered, dressed, ate and laced up my sneakers. i was doing a forced run today and i had to be ready to hit bullseye after bullseye. i was being watched today. i was one of the few, the chosen few. i drove for an hour to reach the exam. when i got there, i was to park in a state office building parking garage. the traffic! everyone was working today at their state civil servant jobs. well, i was one of the few. i was trying out for the post office and that was harder than anything that these state employees had taken.
i walked up to the line... and the line was four deep. thirty people in each queue. i presented id and my form and was cheerily greeted and told to take a seat inside. there must have been 300 people in that auditorium. so much for thinking that i was one of the few chosen to take the entrance exam. well, that increased the competition slightly, but it did not deter me. i mean, how many jobs were available? how many post offices were there in the world? i sat at a table shared with one other exam taker and arranged my three sharpened no. 2 pencils in front of me. people looked nervous, people looked confident, people looked bored, tired, sleepy, on edge, prepared and under-prepared. i wasn't worried. i was ready and damnit, i was going to join the ranks of the post office! people talked around me, young and old. these people didn't look like postal workers, did they? some wore ties, some wore shorts and t shirts. i had tried for something casual, but professional, slacks and a button down collar with more pencils sticking out of my shirt pocket that i had poked myself with a few times already. and then to top off my armament, a pencil sharpener. no way was i unprepared.
we were handed books and answer sheets and given strict warnings about cheating. if anytone were to be caught they would be expelled immediately. no ifs, ands or buts. this was serious stuff. i covered my answer sheet jealously. the young kid next to me didn't look like the cheating sort... or did he? he may have sensed that a superior test taker was sitting next to him about to fulfill his god given right to be in the ranks of the postal service. but he wasn't going to be able to take advantage of that fact.
after the warnings and instructions that took me right back to grade school, fill in the circles completely and fully, do not x in an answer, make sure that your answers correspond to the answer key, we were allowed to start, section by section and were timed. it began with address checking, two addresses were given and you were to determine if they were alike or varied in any way. as i've said, you start doing this in your head for awhile and it becomes automatic. i finished feeling good about this. i was a born address checker. then through three more sections in the test getting progressively harder, but i was still confident when i finished.
at the end of the exam, the post office gives an informal survey of personality questions for you to answer. rate in 5 steps where you can be pigeonholed. you have no room for an in between answer, but instead are told to answer it as quickly as possible without thinking it over too much. i've heard that the army has these personality questions too to weed out the undesirable psychopaths and the unstable. so too, with the post office. they were testing me, but so be it. i was up to it and when i left, i left the room with a smile on my face, ready to meet with my fate as a letter carrier.
weeks went by and i got anxious, irritable, itchy and i still hadn't heard from my future employer. then, one day a long slim letter came. nothing too fancy, just black and white with the eagle stamped on the front. at last! i opened it, not able to put it off any longer. "this is a record of your participation in the following exam." blah,blah, blah... and there it was in bold black writing. a 74.80. huh? not even five points above the minimum score needed to be added to the register. i was a little flustered, could it have been a mistake? there it was in black and white. the big scoring computer up in the sky may have decided to sit me back down for my hubris. my time was yet to come.

the holy envelope within sight

i think that i finally forgot about it for awhile and gave up on my quest consciously. but like the holy grail, it was never forgotten. i slogged along in my work and printed phots in a one hour lab and tried not to give the mailman the third degree when he came into the store. nothing going out? he asked every day. nope, and neither was i.
then i found an ad in the paper. hiring casuals. call such and such a number to request an application. 'casual' work is the work designated by the post office to be temporary with no benefits, no OT and no promise of further employment. i finally was allowed to test the waters. i received the 20 page application in the mail the following week. what the hell? i op[ened it up. more complicated than applying to the cia or the fbi. i was asked to fill in form after form that duplicated the same information that i had filled out on the previous form. forms for the acceptance of checking up on your past addresses, past employers and hobbies going back ten years. i filled in my name and address until my hand cramped, but this was promising. i was being allowed to audition before the committee. and then i wasn't called.
i forgot about it again for a year. it burned in my brain, i was never called. they had seen something in my paperwork bio that they hadn't felt was up to snuff for the mails. i wouldn't be allowed to carry an envelope for the usps. until the following summer. another ad in the paper for casual work. i phoned the same number, probably speaking to the same woman and requested another application packet. the paperwork arrived again, the same old ten year old forms photocopied over and over for countless hands to cramp while filling out, name, address, phone number, ever been convicted of a felony? if so, please describe, where were you living? give the names, phone numbers and relevant scars or marks of previous emplyers and supervisors going back ten years, turn the page and answer it again, this time answering whether you have ever been employed by the usps before or do you have any relatives within the service? but i persisted and endured the cramping and the ever persistent redundancy.
in the meanwhile i chanced across an announcement for the postal exam. my fiancee was visiting her mom in syracuse and the local paper had a listing for an exam to be given in a month's time. i slipped through the door finally. i registered for the closest exam which was given an hour away and opened the study exam book that i had bought a year ago.

the initiate

but how does one get into the usps? when i began to think about it, i realised that i hadn't an idea. was it a secret society that was available by invitation only? i started asking my friends if anyone knew and the answers that i got convinced me that they hadn't an idea either of how to begin. maybe i would have to petition the grand postmaster and then if accepted, i would be asked the ages old questions... name the first pony express riders horses, what was ben franklin's motivation, if a piece of mail is delivered late to a home but no one is home, is it truly late? and finally young initiate, how much postage is enough? and if, standing in the dimly lit post office with the grand postmaster general behind his altar of a blue post box, you answered these questions truly and faithfully, you would be given a series of tasks like neatly tearing out a stamp from a block of them neatly, you would be inducted into the ranks.
i began by looking up the phone number for the local po in the yellow pages. hmmm... but wasn't this odd, there were no local numbers for the offices listed, but instead a 1 800 number for the regional centers. i called them, but got no response other than a series of increasingly complex computer generated choices in a canned voice asking me if i wanted to know where a post office was or for more detailed info to visit the post office nearest you. it led me into a circle. i hadn't the proper extension to speak to a human. i hadn't the key to become an initiate.
finally, by chance or maybe design, i was allowed to find a phone number for one of my larger local po's. i dialed it and began to ask about employment. the voice on the other end sensed that i was an outsider and determined that the safest course of events would be to lead me back to the beginning. employment? oh no, not here, you would have to dial... the 1 800 number that i had tried. who would i speak to? oh, i don't know that. ok, how do i find out about the next postal exam? the announcements are usually posted on the wall in your local po. when? whenever they come up. when is the next one coming up? when you see the exam announcement posted. where are they held? wherever the announcement schedule says they are. and i can only find this out when i read the announcement posted? yes. well, how did you get your job? i asked, thinking this would get me a more detailed response. oh, i was called up after my exam. which was when? oh, i don't know... you know that there is a 1 800 number, correct? i was told.
trying to access the information from a teller at the window was equally exasperating. i was given blank stares and the vaguest answers. look for the exam announcement that will be posted. when? no one knew. it was an open call to all apprentices who knew when and where to look for it. and you could only find it by hanging around the po and mailing things, often... the beginners were culled from the ink stained ranks of people with a permanent taste on their tongues from licking stamps and browsing the fbi's most wanted posters. i was reminded of when i was a child walking into the huge post offices with vaulted ceilings and dark cool interiors. the mysterious figures in blue behind the windows framed by bars and the distant clanking of machines postmarking letters and cancelling stamps. these people had the power to return an item to sender, to demand postage due, to bring love letters or bills and the ultimate power, the deposit something in the dead letter room, where it was to never surface from its exile and i wanted this power.