I think we can call the construction of the gazebo a success. Jamie put the final touches to it this morning by fitting some rubber grommets into a couple of holes and it is now there for us to enjoy. We had talked about some refinements but have decided not to spoil what is clearly a good thing. Bertine from Number 5 popped in to check it out and we sat around the table with a glass of wine contemplating the future.
Nothing much is happening today. Sandra, the cleaning lady is expected; I plan to have two walks to add a couple of thousand steps to my daily tally, and I need to tidy up some TV programs I have downloaded. Marilyn has an appointment at the Eye Hospital this afternoon and that will give us an excuse for a coffee in town.
I think I might have posted The Missing Postman before but I haven't ticked it off. No matter: it's one of my favourites so deserves another airing.
THE MISSING POSTMAN AUGUST 27, 2021
If
anyone asked what he did, Wayne would tell them he was the Missing
Postman. Sometimes, people would ask him
what he meant because, in their simple understanding, he was there in front of
them so, clearly, not missing at all.
Wayne would just smile and change the subject.
It
wasn’t surprising that people came to think that Wayne was a little odd, if not
seriously disturbed.
In
fact, Wayne was employed by the Post Office to make enquiries when postal items
went astray. He was the man who looked
after the Post that was Missing. He was
the Missing Post Man.
If
you knew Wayne, you would wonder how he kept his job. He was certainly no intellectual giant and he
had an irritating habit of constantly singing old Everley Brothers songs in a
low monotone voice. More than one
fellow-employee had asked for a transfer after one too many choruses of Bye Bye
Love.
But,
Wayne was always neatly dressed; his mother ironed a fresh shirt for him every
morning, and he was generous in helping out when anyone needed an hour or two
off for personal business. Most
importantly, no one else was prepared to take on the job of Missing Post
Man. It was a thankless task with little
hope of promotion. The incumbent had
only a tiny cubby-hole to work from.
Some wag once dubbed this the Dead Letter Office and the name
stuck.
The
general feeling among the staff was that the job of Missing Postman was the end
of the line, the job you were given when Head Office thought you should be put
out to pasture. And, of course, no one
can be sacked from the Public Service; it is a well-known fact that every
Public Service Department has a designated number of positions which are so
mind-numbingly boring that their sole purpose is to make life so miserable for
the incumbent that a resignation will inevitably follow.
Somehow,
Wayne thrived in his hovel of an office.
He always had a tiny vase of fresh flowers and his desk was the tidiest
in the whole department. He brought
polish from home and every Monday morning, all the furniture was treated to a
spruce-up. Wayne was held up to the
other staff as a model employee, whose example others should follow.
Perhaps,
his supervisors should have looked at how successful he was in discovering the
whereabouts of missing postal items before holding him up as a shining example
of what a good employee should look like.
In short, his success rate was appalling. Apart from the odd letter from the bank or
electricity bill, he found almost nothing that had gone astray.
Wayne
was not very bright, but he was certainly sharp enough to know when a good
scheme should come to an end. One Monday
morning, Wayne didn’t show up to work.
No one was worried; he wasn’t a vital cog in the wheel and everyone
assumed his mother would ring at some stage to say that he had a cold. Another day passed, and another and someone
thought, perhaps, a ‘phone call to his mother might be a good idea.
His
mother was surprised to receive the call. Didn’t they realise that Wayne had
been sent off to Canberra for special training before he took on his new job as
Controller of Misplaced Parcels? This
announcement caused much consternation in the office. Surely, it couldn’t be true. Even the public service wouldn’t be stupid
enough to promote Wayne to any position of authority.
The
wheels of the Public Service grind slowly but, eventually, an investigation was
launched to inquire into the matter. A panel of eminent retired senior officers
from the department was charged with finding out what had happened to Wayne and
were there any extenuating circumstances which should be taken into
account. The matter was certainly helped
by the arrival of a postcard from Wayne, now resident in a South American
country which, as it happens, has no extradition treaty with Australia.
A
picture was emerging that Wayne had been up to no good, and diligent digging
unearthed the truth that, for years, Wayne had been stealing parcels and other
mail and, as the Missing Postman, he had been able to cover up the theft quite
easily. He focused on birthday and Christmas cards which might have a banknote
tucked into them, and parcels from ebay and other mail order companies, which
were all covered by insurance so nobody would make a fuss if they didn’t
arrive.
Few
people in the Post Office had ever given Wayne a second thought but now the
Legend of the Missing Postman will live for ever.
