It is hard to watch someone or something that you love die. The U.S. Postal Service has been a lifelong friend. The thrill of getting one’s first card. The joys of exchanging letters and cards with friends and loved ones across the country at low cost. (I remember when first class postage was 3 or 4 cents.) The safety and reliability of paying bills and receiving financial correspondence with minimum fuss.
But now the patient is on life support, with the head of the agency raising the first class rates every six months since he took the job and lowering the rates of service drastically. Meanwhile, he complains that rates of first class usage are declining. (Well, duh, even I have weeded out some infrequent correspondents to save money.) He trumpets the need for “efficiency,” rushing to deliver packages, but slowing the expected delivery time on first class, and now he wants to “efficiently” take Springfield mail that needs to be delivered in Springfield to St. Louis to sort.
