Hello, Newman

“Mister postman look and see
If there’s a letter in your bag for me
I been waiting such a long time….”
In the past, the relationship with my post person has been fairly rudimentary and followed a simple equation:

post person receive/deliver mail + Emily open mail box/pick up mail = happy.

Its been this way for YEARS in every city and every place of residence.  This relationship protocol has seemed to have halted temporarily however seeing I have been receiving messages from my current post man.  Let me explain.  My current place of residence has been a new experience — in that its a much older building then what I’ve lived in the past.  I like to call it vintage styled with its old hard wood floors, small walk-up feel and housing only six apartments total.  Its charming and quaint and I find myself working beside the bay windows much of the time.  Its got that neighborhood charm.

Now here’s where it gets a little nutty.  Each tenant must put their LAST name and APT # on their respective mail box.  A task I thought was given to building management.  As a result, I never made it a priority to make the correction/update.  In the past two weeks, I’ve been receiving a message here or there courtesy of the USPS man/woman indicating various versions of: “please put name on mail box”.  Now in my own ingrained paranoid NYC mind — I thought the following:  1) I don’t want my neighbors knowing my last name, 2) will the transaction of mail not be complete if said name refuses to appear on box, and 3)  F–k you mail person!  And went on my merry way.
Until I received this yesterday night:
Message from my postman
Now I was mad.  How dare he/she write in CAPITAL letters with exclamation marks! EXCLAMATION MARKS!  And write the slightly threatening, psychotic looking, “no name, no mail” message.  As I raced to get to class while still holding this wretched message my mind raced of all the things I could possibly do in response:
I could write my name in illegible cursive .
I could write in tiny print
I could write in a ภาษาต่างประเทศ (foreign language) (in Thai). 
I could respond simply with the word “No”.
Finally, the thought of ignoring the message was high on my list.  Then the obese hamster in my rusty mind started running on its wheel and I thought:  are they legally aloud to withhold mail simply because a resident didn’t have their name on their mailbox?  What about P.O. boxes?  Or places like dormitories?  These days 99% of my mail tends to be junk.  So it actually thrilled me to think I would be rid of those things.  In the end, the thought of not receiving the 1% that I do consider to be critical or important mail outweighed my neurotic, slightly mad and overly evil ways of countering.  
Damn you Mr. Postman!  Apparently Newman was right:
“When you control mail, you control INFORMATION!”

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