Most likely, I’m one of the few who has not read The Corrections. One day, one day.

In the meantime, I’m reading a book of Franzen’s essays. He writes about the post office in Chicago during the time when mountains of mail were being found in the homes of postal employees, under bridges, in cars, etc.

How many of you have had trouble with the post office lately?

Since I send out so much mail for 32 Poems — my life is glamorous — the employees know me. So far, the five-year relationship I’ve had with most of the people there has resulted in little more than a coloring book and four crayons for O (when O wanted to draw with the screen-signing plastic pen).

Recently, the post office shut down my post office box. This bill is paid only one time per year, so it’s not as easy to remember as a monthly bill. That’s why the post office promises to give 20 days notice. However, I received only 10 days notice according to the rubber date stamp they placed on my bill. Since I was out of town during those 10 days in August, the post office shut down the 32 Poems PO box and returned every single piece of mail to its sender.

No one apologized. One woman even started to argue with me that it was not really 20 days until I showed her the printed document — printed by the post office! — that clearly indicates the 20 days notice.

I had to write contributors and ask them to re-send publication agreements. It was a time-consuming mess for all involved, except the post office.

What did the post office do?

They charged me a $14 fee to re-open my PO box.

I’ve tried to have this fee refunded and the manager won’t return my calls.

More recently, we were told the wrong price to mail out a 32 Poems. We’ve now spent at least $100 on wasted postage to mail the subscriptions. I doubt we’ll be refunded. This is enough that I want to record all of my conversations with people there and get them to sign documents saying how much it costs to send an item.

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