Chances are that within the first week of your freshman year here, you’d met that friend. By the end of the month, you’d met a dozen more of that same person. You know who I’m talking about. That cocky one who worked for Residential Mail Services.
“We don’t do anything there,” they would tell you matter-of-factly. “Oh, come on,” was your natural reply. “You can’t really get paid to do nothing.”
“No, seriously,” they’d say, “we really don’t do anything there.”
After a bit more pestering, they might admit that they “occasionally have to deliver a letter somewhere,” or something along those lines. Of course, this exclusive no-work club was reserved for, ironically enough, only students who were qualified for work study.
Not buying any of it, I patiently waited for the first package of my freshman year to arrive. When it finally did, I anxiously made the hop, skip, and jump over from Stetson East to confirm the stories. I walked up to the window, purple slip in hand, and saw them, dozens of them, as far as the eye could see. And, aside from taking up space, they really were doing absolutely nothing. I was dumfounded.
Now, according to Bessie King’s article “Mailroom staff upset over new system, owner,” (March 31), they’re upset that Pitney Bowes has taken over. Why? Because they might actually have to do some work instead of sitting around listening to their iPods. Those poor, unfortunate souls. I must admit I do always feel bad for them when I go in. It just breaks my heart to see the annoyed looks on their faces as they agonizingly tear themselves away from conversation to begrudgingly find my delivery.
ResMail “workers” are upset over new drug testing policies, and having to clock in and out at set times (the audacity of the new management!). Senior Mike Amato specifically bemoans the loss of his “relaxed environment.” It just tears him up inside to have to “follow corporate policies.” As glaringly obvious as this might sound to everyone else, welcome to the real world, Mikey! This probably describes just about every job you’ll ever have for the rest of your life. I mean, I highly doubt any employer will pay you to sit around and read magazines all day.
Earlier this year, I ordered a chair and had it sent to the school. The package was larger and heavier than I’d imagined, and it would’ve been impossible for me to lug it all the way across campus on my own. I was informed that all the dollies had been signed out, but I should try back the next day. After trying back for several days, I was weakly told by a worker that all the dollies had, in fact, been stolen.
“Uhh, you could try to find one somewhere else,” he muttered, when I asked what I should do about the problem.
My dolly hunt turned up fruitless. Not wanting to hassle a friend, I tried calling ResMail to see if they could do anything for me. I got a supervisor on the phone and explained the situation, and politely asked if there was any way it could be delivered to me.
“No, you’ll have to come in and pick it up,” she said. At this point I was fairly annoyed, and commented on the myriad ResMail employees who packed the office every day. I even had the temerity to ask if a couple of them could possibly bring the package to my dorm.
“That’s not our job here,” she rudely responded before hanging up on me.
I slapped my forehead in disgust. Of course! Dealing with packages obviously isn’t their responsibility! How could I have been so stupid?
Eventually, I located a dolly and got the chair to my room, no thanks to a soul from Residential Mail Services.
I’m glad Pitney Bowes has taken over the mail room. Maybe all those work study kids will finally do their job. Actually, maybe they’ll finally do a job, period. Looks like you’ll have to find a new place to get your homework done, fellas. Sorry.
— Christopher Henchman is a sophomore
communications major.
