Going Postal

In this age of electronic communication, it’s rare for me to write real letters which require real envelopes & stamps, but in a fit of old-fashioned convention I did just that. I then walked two blocks to my local почта to mail it.

I tried to drop the envelope in the letter box, but it was too long. I carried it to the window, and asked the clerk (in Russian, of course) where I might mail it.
“You can’t mail it,” she replied.
“What do you mean?” I asked, truly perplexed. I’d enclosed my letter in an air-mail envelope, complete with stamps, which I’d purchased from that exact post office.

“Your stamps are old,” came her answer, “They’re dated 1997.”
I knew my stamps were old; they’d been old when I’d purchased them. That hadn’t stopped the postal clerks from selling them to me, however.
“I know they’re old – I bought them this way. Why can’t I mail my letter?” I questioned.

Reason #403 why I will always stand out as a foreigner: I seek to understand the “why” of the circumstances.

“You just can’t. If you buy new stamps, then we can mail it for you,” she informed me.
“Alright then,” I said, “I’d like to buy the new stamps.” I figured this would be the fastest way to get my letter out of my hands and into the system. I should have known better.

“Take it downstairs, out the door & across the building to the package department then. They will weigh your letter there and tell you how much postage to put on it.”
I don’t know why I was surprised, but I stammered, “You can’t weigh it here?”
“No,” she stated bluntly, a postal scale clearly visible behind her left elbow.

Down the stairs, out the door, and across the building I went to the package department, frustration brewing with every step. I waited in line for five minutes until it was my turn to speak to the package clerk. I stepped up to the counter and handed her my air-mail envelope.
“You can’t mail that letter here. This is the package department,” came her curt greeting.

You’d think, after four years here, I’d be used to this. It’s not unlike a Who’s on First routine, but these ladies aren’t actors.
“They told me to bring this to you to have it weighed,” I answered, nearly cross-eyed with frustration.
“But you can’t use these stamps. They’re old.” She looked at me as though I were slightly crazy. By this point, I nearly was.

As patiently as I could manage, I explained why I was there in her department, “Yes, they’re old. That’s why I’m going to buy new stamps. But I can’t buy new stamps until I weigh this envelope. They can’t weigh it upstairs, so I came down here. If you could please weigh it for me, then I will walk back upstairs to buy stamps and put it in the mailbox!”

The irony of this whole situation was not lost on this clerk, and in a rare fit of cooperation, she not only weighed my letter, but sold me the stamps! She then shocked me even further by dropping it into an outgoing mailbox! I had the odd feeling that I had beaten the system as I left the post office that day.

And people wonder why I stopped sending Christmas cards...