phil jacobsen

Slots of Fun

Mailboxes come in all shapes and sizes. Some mailboxes are shaped like fish with one enlarged pectoral fin that is raised when there is outgoing mail. To open the box, I have to grab the fishhook coming out of the trout’s mouth and then put the mail in the box like I’m making a dinner called, “Presorted Standard Stuffed Trout.”

Some mailboxes have personality, like the mailbox that has the words “Thank You,” written under the lid. I treat this mailbox with great personification courtesy when I walk away, saying, “You’re welcome.”

I happily give the mailboxes that say, “No Junk Mail!!!!” the most junk. If I know one of these mailboxes is approaching, I even deliver mail I’ve saved from vacant houses. Then I walk away thinking, “Sort your own mail; I’m not your secretary.” Some people think they are being crafty by leaving their mailbox lid down knowing that once the mail is delivered the mailman will close the lid. I close the lid; it’s my job. Just know that on the day when your order from Shutterfly arrived and there was six inches of snow piled up on your open lid, I was just doing my job when I covered your photos in an avalanche of snow.

I hate slots. Slots on the door, slots on the house, slots hidden in ivy, slots are not lots of fun. A mailman only has one hand that can open or shut a mailbox, the other hand is holding all of the mail for your neighbors. Slots on a door usually require me to rearrange the mail I’m holding in one hand to try and pry open the slot on your door.

In order to turn a negative into a positive, I have learned how to have fun with slots. On the days when all of the advertisements are delivered (which more and more seem like everyday), instead of shoving all of your mail through the door in one tight bundle, I stagger the load. If I hold onto the cover of a magazine or outer-page of advertisements, I can make the mail appear to look like a small nuclear explosion when it comes blasting through the slot in your door.

Slots also hide dogs. Just like every fourth grade teacher seems to have a story that says, “I know someone who once lost an eye doing that,” every mailman has heard a story about the woman who “lost her finger delivering mail.” As the story is told, this postal carrier delivered the mail through a slot on a door, and as her finger entered the house when it crossed the plane of the door, a dog on the other side took first class care of her index finger. This is why when I hear a dog barking when I deliver mail through a slot, I move the mail around like an invading creature until the dog attacks the mail. This game is really fun on the days when I deliver checks.

Yeah, it even seems strange to me that I like or hate a house simply by judging the size and location of the mailbox. I guess, just like mailboxes, mailmen come in all shapes and sizes, too. My shape is passive aggressive: handle with care.