The Mail Room

The average office job required the intelligence to work a copy machine and pour coffee—and sometimes being able to turn on the computer to check account data, but no one ever did that crap. They were always on facebook or youtube laughing at a squirrel dancing. The average office job was as boring as hell. In fact, I’m sure hell would have been more entertaining.

But I worked in the mail room. And the mail room was kept locked away from public view in a corner without central air conditioning. It was a sweat box in every sense of the phrase. I soon learned that the reason we were allowed to wear a t-shirt instead of work suits or ridiculous skirts and frilly tops was not because we were at the bottom of this hell hole chain, but that the hell hole was cheap and didn’t want to pay to install another vent.

That’s why they always got their mail on time. It wasn’t because we actually gave a damn about time or the punishment that might be inflicted if we were late—it was because it was hot in there.

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