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Postal Service Service

Back in May I wrote about the great service I received at the post office in downtown Ann Arbor. It's too bad I can't tell a similar story about the service at the main post office out on West Stadium Boulevard.

About a month ago I shipped most of my books back to Ann Arbor from Chicago. Since I'd heard about Heidi's experience with the Detroit Bulk Mail Center Claims Unit, I figured I'd be better off insuring my packages in case they disintegrated enroute. That meant that the mailman wouldn't leave the packages without a signature. In fact, the mailman didn't even try to leave the packages; he left me a couple of notices saying I could pick them up in person at the main post office at 2075 West Stadium Blvd. For some reason, the Postal Service wouldn't move them over to the downtown post office, which is much closer to where I live. I spent about two hours on buses lugging what felt like 75 pounds of boxes back to my apartment, which is no big deal in itself, except that there didn't seem to be any reason why they couldn't have gotten my mail a lot closer to its destination than they did.

Moral of the story: the Postal Service is a cesspool of bureaucratic irrationality. Or, don't insure your boxes if you've already taped the living bejeezus out of them. . . . Or, don't take so much crap to Chicago in the first place. . . .


I just want to see if I can post comments on your blog as now constituted.

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