I'm under inspection at work this week. This means there's a guy standing behind me in the office with a clipboard who's watching everything I do and making notes. Looking at the clock, and taking notes.
Not too nerve-wracking, eh? I'll be this sort of thing happens all the time wherever you happen to work, right?
So they're counting all the mail I get, and I'm counting all the mail I get. And before I even get started I wind up in one of the strangest arguments I've ever been in. I was instructed to make absolutely no changes or alterations in my route, but to do it exactly the way it is on my rack. Any alterations are a no-no.
Alright, I say, I can see that.
...Except for these 4 houses. Them I have to move in the delivery sequence
Am instructed to move.
Okay, I say, okay, but I have one question. Why is it alright for me to change those four addresses, but bad to change anything else?
Answer given: Why not?
So I asked why.
Answer: Why not?
We went back and forth like this for a while; each would come at it in a different way, from a different direction, using different tactics, but each of us eventually circled back to the original two questions:
Satisfaction was not had on either side.
This 'discussion' happened in the morning before I clocked in for the day, so it was in this odd (read 'annoyed') frame of mind that I walked out on the floor to work under the spotlight this morning.
The discussion itself haunted me, as no less than three more people talked to me about it in my efforts to not be penalized for doing something so odd. I think it was all straightened out. I hope it was. This, though, made my morning a little jagged as I kept halting work to talk the various people who came by about it. I was going to be late enough as it was, I didn't need this, and it was somewhat of my own making. I was hustling a bit toward the end of the morning, just trying to get out on the road. Then someone reminded me to hit my Hotcase.
The Hotcase is where the clerks re-sort any missorts that have occurred over the morning. Mail that accidentally goes to the wrong route, is addressed incorrectly by the Sender, etc. The last thing we're supposed to do before we pull down is hit the Hotcase and get that last bit of mail to the right places.
I said I wouldn't forget.
Another person reminded me.
I said I wouldn't forget.
My Boss reminded me about the Hotcase.
No worries, I called to him. I'll get it in a second.
Well, to make a long story short (yes, I know, way too late for that, right?) I managed to forget my Hotcase.
I pulled the route down, and then Boss walked my Hotcase mail over. Not just a little. Not a mere handful of letters. A lot. And now I had to try to work them in as I went, out on the road. A major pain in the butt.
I stared at the big pile of letters on my bench.
I said Oh, God, why did I do that?
In my mind I heard a simple answer.
Talk to you later!