The Insanity of the United States Postal Service

Quote: boymimbo

Then what's the point, Face? Move to Florida to a part of the state where the economy is better and stay close to your child. Building and maintaining a relationship to him is far more important than any dollar amount you will make.

I know you were gone awhile, so I suspect you missed my lamentations on living below the poverty line. Until about Nov, I was on pace to make ~$15k for all of 2015. And I'm supposed to relocate on that? Terapined might just be bleeding heart enough to supply room and board until I get on my feet, but I would assume he's also too bleeding heart to accept the large amount of weaponry I'd be toting along with me. So unless FleaStiff has an in-law set up in his swamp-side bungalow, Florida is out of the question.

Quote: Evenbob

I thought your full custody was a done deal.

WTF

It was. Is. But that's legal. I operate on a moral level.

Bottom line, the kid misses his mom and is of the age to somewhat understand and communicate his wants. This is what he wants. Now, I can point out that the child does not have a complete grasp on time (he doesn't), but that matters little. I could also go deep into psychology and point out that he feels abandoned, and is drawn to her for no other reason than to assuage that pain. I believe that as much as I believe the sun will rise tomorrow. But concepts such as that are far too deep to ram into a 7yr old's head, or to force a decision that he doesn't understand.

I've resisted long enough. I've done everything I can. I look back and I cannot find a single time when I slept instead of played with him, or rested instead of taking him fishing, or went off to tend to my own social needs instead of staying home to cook / clean / do homework. I did my best. But at least, for now, my best isn't enough. I cannot replace the love of mother.

I'm tired of fighting. I'm just tired, period. That's not to say I couldn't go another round. I've got no time, no money, no energy, but I never run out of fight. But this isn't the time to fight. I have to let go. In fact, I think I should let go, I think it'll be exactly what is needed. As much as I can't replace love of mother, I don't think anyone can replace me. I just worked too goddamn hard at it. I did too much right. I see him going and having the same reaction with me as he's now having with her. I can't look at everything and say anything other than "He will be back". I really believe it. And that might finally be that. No more arguing over it, no more manipulative bitch of an ex M-i-L tempting my violent side, no more guilt trips, no more questioning my motives.

But it is hard. Just all of everything. The perpetual 12-14hr days, the no days off, the no time for anything, the no money, the pushing through considerable physical pain, the lack of any sort of recognition from any facet of my life, and then the kid saying he doesn't want you anymore... it's f@#$ing hard. I still manage a smile, I still joke with two guys in the office, I mostly manage to save the tears for the ride home. But it's hard. A new-to-me song popped up just as my mind drifted to the kid and everything came crashing down. I had to pull over, I was sobbing hysterically. Just did again by looking for the song. I'm a goddamn mess...



About 11 days in, or 3-ish days ago, I again came home to a dark and empty house. I again prepped for the next day, again identified an outfit that was "least dirty", again cooked a sad and lonely meal for one. It was at that point that I realized I was a fifth of Jack away from actually existing as a George Jones song. That made me laugh. I am OK, at least in a way that matters. Somewhere on my road there's a sunrise. If I keep going I have to come to it, so that's the plan for now. Said the philosopher Dory, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming".



Oh, In USPS news, it's... it's madness. It's just too much. It's so awesome. Everyday you walk in hoping beyond hope, and everyday, the only thing you can say... "This... this can't be real." It's teaching me so many lessons. I've sort of broken through the wall, pain wise. The stabbing pain has ever so slightly dulled and there's a weird prickle now, as if there was a burr on my shirt poking through and scratching the skin. I dunno, but while concerning, it's less crippling and has resulted in faster and faster times. Today, for the first time, I left the office without needing headlights. I've gone past what I thought was my breaking point, and it feels... not like I'm going strong, certainly not that. But at least that I have something left in me with maybe some to spare.

Hopefully it'll be over soon and I can come play again. But now, I gotta go to my other job.

P.S. - If I'm found dead, it ain't no mystery or "natural causes". Find my mother, tell her "He was killed by the United States Postal Service"

"The way I understand it, the Russians are sort of a combination of evil and incompetence... sort of like the Post Office with tanks."

Kids always (always) want what they don't
have. Give it 6 weeks and he'll want to live
with you again. What he really wants is what
all separated kids want, for his mom and
dad to be together.

She won't treat him the same as you do and
it will feel wrong to him. He thinks he wants
his mom, he really wants the idea of his mom,
and that doesn't exist in reality.

Kids are cruel. The only way to get even, is to wait until they have kids, and buy them drum sets. : )

For your consideration.

BTW, I got a money making idea for you here.

The idea is, this company would likely buy something you find in your area. How many dollars have you seen lying at the side of road over the years? Just document it, as they seem to want that.

Actually, driving a mail truck around you may have even more opportunities to grab something. Just don't mention it to your bosses and carry double bags.

If anybody asks what you were doing, tell em you were trying to help the poor thing?
; )

Quote: rxwine

For your consideration.

After just 3min of her describing the job,
I hated it & wouldn't last one day, even if
I was 25 again.

Had afriend, ron cummins. He was mister pm and i was misteram. I worked 4 to 12pm and Ron and

Josie were best friends. He died at 43 of cancer. SIGH he worked for Post Office for about a year. He was fired and I drove him to a hearing. Isat outside his supervisors cubicle. I overheard her say Mr. Cummins, we have no doubt you are crazy, we just don,t believe the Post Office is responsible.

Did Face live thru yesterday, it's always the busiest
day of the year at the PO. Their season peaked
yesterday.

Quote: Evenbob

Did Face live thru yesterday, it's always the busiest
day of the year at the PO. Their season peaked
yesterday.

Not going to listen thru again, but I think that lady said new people can both work as little as 4 hours, but they can also end up working longer than long term workers when called upon.

Quote: Evenbob

After just 3min of her describing the job,
I hated it & wouldn't last one day, even if
I was 25 again.

That was a City Carrier. F#$% that noise. Micromanaged to death, plus all that walking. Our days are similar at the case, although mine is 3-4 times bigger than theirs. After that, though, night and day. I'm just gone until I'm back, no check ins, no scanning boxes, or any of that junk.

Quote: Evenbob

Did Face live thru yesterday, it's always the busiest
day of the year at the PO. Their season peaked
yesterday.

No way. The 4 days after TDay was ungodly. Yesterday I was done by 6p, today 3p! Not that I expect it to last, but gdamn, what a relief to work 8.5 hours.

I'm still kicking, still delivering, still reffing. That's about it, though. Literally no time for anything else. I'm scared to weigh myself =/

I'll be back with a verbal purging of this month when I get the time. Might as well dive into Festivus with a solid Airing of Grievances