Another day on the job site. Things are progressing. All is good.
When the day was over I went down to the dock to get my boat and go home. René, postmistress numero uno was there. Since we are both part of the ‘vintage working class’, we stopped to hobnob about our day.
“Howzit going?”
“Good. Busy day. The union (CUPW) got locked out and yet I sold more stamps today than ever! Howbout you?”
“Weird day in the usual goofy-guys-on-the-worksite kinda way. How many stamps would that be then?”
“Twenty bucks is a big day as a rule but I sold $40.00 today!”
“Wow! Not much in the giant postal marketing scheme of things, I guess, but……..like……who is buying stamps?”
“Oh, everybody! No one big spender. Just a lot of little ones. You know, we are the biggest postal centre on the plane’s route? Biggest post office in the area.”
“Geddouddahere!!”
“No. Really! There are two other stops on the float plane’s route and we are, by far, the biggest receiver and sender of mail amongst the three of us. Honest!”
So – there you have it! On our biggest day we sell $40.00 worth of stamps and we are #1 on the mail plane’s route for volume. A pilot gets in a plane and flies around a few hundred square miles for six or so hours and, when it is all said and done, Canada Post may have made $100.00 gross sales on a big, big day.
It would appear that the days of the ‘postie’ are numbered.
Which, in a way, is ironic. A recent poll (Vanity Fair) found that over 63% of people polled would prefer to ‘live out their days’ in the country. Less than 7% preferred to spend their remaining years in the city. How does that square with the fact that the cities are growing and rural populations are still shrinking?
Seems men are currently outliving women these days, too. Can’t remember where I read it but men are (in some context) outliving women for the first time. I guess it has something to do with wars being conducted by cruise missiles, terrorists and hackers (thus saving young men) and the workforce now employing more women than men (something like 55/45 I believe). So, the ladies are getting the heart attacks these days, I guess.
Having touched on the big topics of our day, I leave René and head home. I see the local prawn fisherman out on the water and stop by. We kibbitz for a bit. Decide to do a proper visit in a day or so. He’s hauling traps while I motor along slowly. We finish up and I head toward home.
The sun is shining, the wind is at my back and I literally fly over the waves for the few minutes necessary to get home. As I drag my weary and sack-o-potatoes-like body up to the house, the dogs run to greet me and I see Sally tending the garden.
“Hi, sweetie! Come look at the Kale! Wow, it is coming along nicely, eh? I’ll come in and make you a nice cuppa tea, shall I?”
“Yeah. Whew. Tough day on the ol’ chain gang, ya know. Need a good cup of tea. Brought you some eggs. Picked ém up at the market. Had no money so we owe Sandy. Will you remember?”
“Yeah. No worries.”
She’s absolutely right about that.
Our Off the Grid Home 