How do you like your post office?

I'm bemused by the Postal Service which seems to charge for parcels whatever they please at these small outlets, and tell you what they please...some of you may know what I'm talking about who live in small towns or have small postal outlets and send mail internationally and both to and from the US. I've begun going online to print out labels for my parcels, using a tape measure and postal scale to determine the correct price, and choosing the cheapest option if I can. It always seems correct but I noticed at our little postal outlet the other day, and I've noticed this before, that a woman was charged expedited parcel as the cheapest way to send a small parcel, which would have been half the price. I wonder why they charge more? It seems to me somebody's making quite a bit of money on overcharging for parcels that could have gone out much cheaper...and I'm aware of that, as I see the rates online, and have the dimensions and weights posted on the Canada Post web site. I've never had a parcel returned. They're either poorly trained or are using a different scale and measuring system. But to ignore the fact that many parcels can be sent small package air or small package surface for a fraction of expedited parcel seems even dishonest. I once saw a man being charged $31 at this particular post office for a brown manila envelope and when he questioned it they changed the price to $11. I'm sure it could have been sent for half that...if anyone wants to question the Post Office about this kind of thing I have no proof, you know, just what I've observed. But I think the Post Office employees should be monitored more closely. Ours is private now. It used to be government. Stores have Secret Shoppers and the transit system has supervisors who check up on the drivers regularly. I think the post office should have supervisors who check up on post office employees as though they're customers and see what is happening. I used to work in an office where the mail was delivered at four or five o'clock in the afternoon. I phoned the local postal outlet a couple of times and was told once the carrier was there reading a book and they thought he'd completed his rounds. Lots of times I'd see him smoking in the Safeway parking lot with the security guard there. When we complained they'd tell us he had until five o'clock to deliver his mail...it was an office. Since moving into this apartment building I've had times when the mail was delivered late at night because apparently the carrier didn't show up at all during the day and mustn't have phoned in.

I love the concept of the postal service and depend on it as though for my lifeblood sometimes; my cheques come through the mail and my friends and family send cards, letters and parcels frequently. Seldom do they go astray, and often arrive before they were scheduled. It's the individuals they hire sometimes, especially here in Canada, who don't seem to be properly screened for efficiency and punctuality. They're well paid. I wouldn't be a mail carrier myself; too many dogs and icy sidewalks to contend with. But here in our apartment building there was really no reason for two cheques and a card with money in it to be sent back as "moved" in the interim when we had a substitute mail carrier, nor for the multitude of letters in the lobby which were misdelivered. Fortunately our regular mail carrier came back after a period of two or three weeks and things were back to normal. But I remember a time when a mail carrier spilled coffee, cream, and sugar all over everyone's mail and then delivered it that way with no apology. And the Post Office took out the complaint line...our previous mail carrier seldom worked on Mondays or after a long weekend or holiday, often delivered mail to the wrong suite, and was frequently very late or didn't show up at all. If he had a parcel he would cram it into the mailbox and sometimes so tightly it wouldn't come out, or came out damaged. He wouldn't ring our suites to tell us we had a parcel nor would he leave it at the office. He would leave a notice that we had to go to the post office to pick it up as he was apparently too lazy to deliver it to us or to the office so we could pick it up. Often I'd receive a notice that a parcel was there when I'd been home all day.

The larger parcels are delivered by a carrier in a special truck at another time of day, and she's excellent. She brings the parcel right up to my door, and is very pleasant. I keep candies and chocolate bars for the couriers and delivery people, and they almost always are inordinately pleased with the wee sweets. I do think they have a somewhat thankless job, but not particularly difficult.

The previous mail person kept his job for a long time, and probably is still sorting and delivering mail somewhere else...they do seem to have better service in the US, where a mail carrier also will post letters and parcels for customers. But I've read that the US Postal Service is in financial difficulty. Their postage rates are cheaper than ours. I don't complain about the flyers and catalogues I get because I think that keeps our postal service going, but it seems as though our rates are quite high and go up every year.

Once I left a thank you card with some candy for our regular mail carrier in the mail box. She thanked me with a note in my mailbox and seemed surprised that someone would remember her like that. I complain about poor service but I don't complain to supervisors anymore as I don't want to get anyone fired, unless they're really BAD! I did phone the post office and lodge a complaint about the cheques and money that had been misdelivered and returned as "moved". I will compliment good service and often have gone out of my way to speak to someone's manager and give them a kudo. But poor service and sloppy or rude communication skills just really irritate me. There's no reason for it; no matter how humble the job, do the best you can and be pleasant.

I think maybe for Christmas I'll slip a card with a $10 bill in it into my mailbox. I seldom see the mail carrier face to face as there's a large bank of mailboxes on the wall in the lobby and she goes into a locked room behind the wall to deliver the mail.

This post is a bit disjointed but I'm torn between complaining about the poor service and then complimenting the really good people. Customer service at the post office was very nice when I called and agreed "that shouldn't have happened." He also apologized. I wish more companies would realize how such a little thing like politeness and "thank you" and "I'm sorry" or "how can I help you?" go a long way towards promoting positive feelings for the company and stopping any hurt feelings that might go any further.

I notice since our regular mail carrier returned the end of October that no mail has been put up on the bulletin board or table in the lobby as being misdirected. And our mail is being delivered mostly before noon. I wonder what's going to happen at Christmastime when they get more subs?

Thinking out of the box

I took a book out of the library on my daughter's recommendation of it called "Predictably Irrational" by Dan Ariely. I'm looking forward to reading it perhaps this weekend. Apparently it explores the reasons we act the way we do, and it's not because of rational or logical thought behind our beliefs and behaviors. I thought when I first heard about the book that he meant we act on our emotions but that's not it. I hope to "get it" and see the world through different eyes, perhaps understand the behavior of other people better when it doesn't seem rational, and my own behavior and beliefs as well. I'm always open to new ways of looking at the world in an effort to get out of my little box and an established way of thinking.

The Esoteric Properties of Truth

I've decided it's just too darn hard to try to reconcile the two sides of the universe as I see them, the flickering shadows that we know and the blinding light of ultimate truth. It's all rather esoteric and I don't know that anyone can do it. So I'm just going to do like the Dalai Lama and "shape motivation" every morning. Is it all about love? Or truth? And are they the same? I started this thread as a means of communication about mental illness. But that seems to be blending into simply life as we know it. We are all one.

What is Truth?

This is hard to explain, but I'm trying to establish a network of truth, like a spider web first as a framework, and then fill it in. There's the truth of things and then there's the shadows, like Plato's Metaphor of the Cave. I think it's all part of our truth as we don't stand in the bright light easily, or are comfortable in the glare, and have spent most of our lives in the shadows. I'm not talking about mental illness here although the analogy could be true for that, too. But very few people know the truth of things, and part of it is looking at the world from someone else's eyes not only our own limited vision.

That may be part of what I'm looking for.

It's like trying to reconcile the two hemispheres of one's brain. It can be done but with difficulty, due to the neuroplasticity of our brains (see Dr. Norman Doitch's book, The Brain that Changes Itself). So I'm trying to change my brain to take in a wider viewpoint to arrive at a more complete truth.

Of course, the ultimate truth and the means to attain it is love.

My 66th Year

Saturday, October 23rd is my birthday and I'll be 66 then, in other words, I'll have lived 66 years and be entering my 67th, yes, that's right, isn't it?

I have wonderful children, wonderful friends, and a great life. I'm not a wealthy woman but I have enough to be comfortable. I live a simple life and I don't hurt anyone.

I'm blessed.

Fundamentalism

I've had 35 or more years of intermittent immersion in fundamentalist (evangelical) "Christianity." I really did enjoy the services at a mainstream church in the west end - quite a refreshing change - which a friend took me to for the past two Sundays, and of course, to each his/her own -- some people seem to enjoy the very small experiences with these "mom and pop" type evangelical churches and the opportunity they afford for friendships at least as long as they go to that particular congregation. I know there are some really good people out there who are embarrassed perhaps by the antics, hatred, and hypocrisy that goes on all over the world, but seems particularly prevalent in North America for some reason, where fundamentalism is almost political.

That's my fave hobbyhorse to ride at the moment but I'm not upset about it, just somewhat bemused.

There's a lot of fear, a lot of hatred, and a lot of misinformation. Will people ever change? Well, no. And that's my point. But we each can, in our own small way, attempt to shed light into darkness.

That being said, Judi's right, "there but for the grace of God go I..." I say that a lot with homeless and the downtrodden, and the misfits in society, but I didn't think to say it about the deluded. Of course, that includes me in recent past. Delusions are part of this illness, and how am I to know what untruths I harbor still? All the better to recognize those in others, which is a well known psychological trait - it's called projection, i.e. you hate and fear that which is in yourself.

Why I picked North America is because of the rise of the fundamentalist right in America from what I gather, but maybe they're just a very vocal minority. It seems that they've decided God is Hate, and miss the Spirit when pontificating about the Law - the only thing Christ really preached against in regards to the Pharisees which, if you'll recall, he relegated to hell in a handbasket. Not that hell in those days was meant to be eternal. The Greek word for "an age" was mistranslated as "eternity". Something like the priest who discovered in the vaults there had been a serious error in translation when the monks had copied the ancient scripts. "Oh, no,' the old priest sobbed, "It says Celebrate!".

It seems to me Islam has a very vocal minority, too. All this perhaps led to the rise of the Western extremes as well.

I prefer to believe in love.
__________________

Like autumn leaves

Voices, calling and laughing, were carried on the wind like fall leaves.

I got a call today from someone at the Schizophrenia Society here in Edmonton. He was calling me back about a call I made a week or two ago asking about advocacy. He left a message as I was away from the phone when he called. Austin Mardon, an advocate with schizophrenia whom I've mentioned here before (see link at side) told me I was an advocate just by being well and being open about my illness.

Certainly I'm well now, happy, and yesterday was a special day. I had a visitor who brought me small but significant gifts, and stayed for tea, and we chatted for two hours mainly about a different culture. Very interesting and a gracious lady.

I'm trying to be more clever in my words. My children are very clever. They write well and they both have a unique and charming sense of humor. They're smarter than I am. But I can train my brain. I've done so already to a certain extent. I've put a hold at the public library on The Brain That Changes Itself. A friend sent me a link to a radio broadcast featuring Dr. Norman Doidge, the author of that book. She suggested it may be a reference I could use in an article.

I'm going to try and get a fantasy novel published. So far I've concentrated on a mainstream novel, the first I wrote many years ago, and I may be more successful with a genre such as fantasy. I'll try to hone my inquiry letter and synopsis so they're acceptable and will try to send out inquiries myself. An editor who is a friend suggested I buy a copy of the 2011 Writer's Market and I'll do that. First I must do my homework and write an excellent letter and synopsis with what I've learned from hiring professional help to do so with my first book. I'll save money if I can find an agent myself rather than hire someone else to send out my inquiries. The friend said that it's as much work sometimes to get a book published as it is to write the darn thing. The book I'm trying to find an agent for is called Thunder and a Nest in Time. It's a time travel book involving the destruction of the earth at the end. Was fun to write.

Another friend is editing my most recent novel, which also is a fantasy. But she likes Thunder best, so I'll take her advice and work on trying to get that published. I think I'll stop writing books until I can get them published or at least find an agent for them.

I won't quit my day job just yet.

Back to why this month is special. October is a birthday month for two of my family including myself, at least two friends, and someone who was 70 yesterday. One of my friends is going to be 90 in a few days and she is on her way to Ontario to visit her son and his family. She does aquafit when the nearby pool is open and she tries to walk every day, although she uses a walker now since a car accident earlier this year. My other friend's birthday is a day before mine at the end of the month. An American couple we're close to who live in Nebraska have an anniversary the day after my birthday. And there are two birthdays in November, making fall a very busy season to send out cards and help celebrate. Of course, Canadian Thanksgiving is next Monday, too.

Like autumn leaves my thoughts are fluttering about my little pulsating brain tonight, tired but satisfied after a day in which I accomplished minor goals.

There are more major goals to set in place this month as well. Two of them my friends and family know, and there are more I've set myself.

I've had articles, poetry, and a play published, but my novels have not been published nor can I find an agent for them. I know they're good. I've been told they're good. I haven't tried until last year to attempt to find a publisher. I won't self publish. I can't afford it and I'm not prepared to fail at marketing them.

What motivates a person to persevere with a goal that seems elusive? I would say my motivation is stubbornness, but that's not a motivation. It's perseverance but that's not motivation.

I would say my motivation is love.

Without which I am a clanging gong, or the wind blowing through empty branches.