My First Errand
This afternoon, Abby, Katie, Chris and I went on nice summer stroll to the Madison Square post office. It was a gorgeous day—the sun was shining, the pigeons were aloft, and the Chrysler building thrust upwards into the clear blue sky like a sharp needle in a concrete haystack—and I was lucky enough to leave the dim office to mail bags and bags and bags of Blackbook mags to lucky recipients. It was my first time to do mail duty and I was psyched. My internship experience would be incomplete if I left the office without ever participating in the hullabaloo that is mail call.
Before leaving the office, we overloaded shopping bags with manila envelopes until each bag weighed about 53.2 lbs. Chris’s bag was so full that the woven handles tore off. We tried to mooch a new bag from Manhattan Kitchen and Bath Center for him but they claimed to not possess shopping bags. Oh well—Chris is man enough to handle the load. (har, har, har).
I had never been to the post office before so I was glad that Chris, a seasoned mail boy, decided to take the lead. Two blocks into our midday trek, we all ditched the handles and began to carry our load using both arms, the bags clutched to our chests like swaddled infants. So there we were, four Blackbook interns on an important errand, dodging lost tourists, yellow taxis, and crazed dogs, as we zig-zagged up the city streets.
I was worried when I saw the long line at the post office. I thought we would have to wait with the crowd (don’t people work anymore?) but Chris sped right past them and headed to the back where the slots labeled “All Mail” and “Overstuffed Mail” are located. “Watch out for the sticky things on the front,” Chris said. “Those are international mailings and we don’t want to get them mixed up.”
We were all intently stuffing slots with manila envelopes, pausing only to let others shuffle in their mail, when we heard a tiny, high-pitched voice say: “What magazine do you work for?” (I mean…who else would be at the post office doing mass mailings but interns working for renowned publications)?
A young, blond girl in linen shorts and a white tank was addressing me.
“Blackbook,” I replied.
“Oh, Ok. I recognized the bag. I intern at Cosmo and we get those bags all the time.”
My battered arms couldn’t help but notice the bright blue laundry cart holding the teeny package she was delivering.
“She gets a cart,” I said.
“Oh, Cosmo didn’t give this to me. This is mine. I’m mailing stuff home because I don’t want to hassle with airport security,” she replied.
We finished our mailing and filed out, the heavy metal doors shutting quietly behind us.
—Resalin
