Marjorie Writes…

Everyday Musings of an Extraordinary Woman


When I left the post office today, I thought I was going to be writing a very different blog post than what I’m going to be writing.

After procrastinating over half of the day, I finally went out to run errands this afternoon, my last day of “freedom” before my kids come home.  I didn’t feel like running mundane errands like going to the bank and the post office and the grocery store. I wanted to either chill and do nothing at home but read and/or watch tv and relax, or go to the beach (not such a great weather day for the beach) but I had to get certain things done before my kids get home tomorrow. So to the post office (etc) I went.

When I went into the post office, I waited in line to buy a stamped envelope (I know, lazy, but I didn’t have any envelopes at home and I use them so rarely I didn’t feel like buying a box). I got my letter ready and then mailed it. Somewhere in there, before I left, the few of us in there were all talking. A man in there asked me what business I used to have (he said I looked familiar) so I told him. He said that was why I looked familiar. So the clerk asked what I was doing now. I replied that I was doing freelance work while looking for a “real” job.  He asked what I did, and said I should work there. Further conversation ensued. He asked for my card, which I didn’t have on me (not having my purse with me), so I wrote down my name and numbers for him, and at his request, a list of my computer and other skills. Thankfully, I forgot to write down this blog address, which he had been interested in.

I left the post office feeling great. I thought, ah, there was a reason I was procrastinating. I was meant to be there then, to get into that group conversation and find the possibility of employment.  I went about the rest of my errands with a spring in my step, thinking about how often chance intercedes and changes the course of our lives. I was thinking about the uplifting blog post I’d be writing when I got home.

After running all of my other errands, I stopped in to see a good friend while she was working. After we caught up, I was about to tell her about what happened at the post office, when I got a text notification on my phone. So I opened it. I think my mouth fell open when I read it.

“Hi Marjorie this is MICHAEL from the post office. If you like give me a call, I enjoyed talking with you.”

OMG I said to my friend, and quickly told her the story, ending with the text message. I was pretty annoyed that he had texted me. This was over an hour after the post office had closed. It was not professional, obviously had nothing to do with a job. She told me that she had been in there last week and the guy basically hit on her too. He hadn’t overtly hit on me while I was in there, I hadn’t been flirting with him in any way. It was just friendly conversation, I thought.

I came home, still seriously annoyed and posted about it on Facebook. One friend suggested in a message that I go to another post office. I said no, I’m not driving off the island just to go to a post office because of some idiot. And I’m not letting him control my actions. He’s a blip on the overall landscape of my life, unimportant.

Needless to say, I didn’t respond to his text. THREE HOURS LATER, I got another text:

“Guess u didn’t want to talk”

Ya think? Seriously? Even if they had a job there that they would hire me for, I couldn’t take it at this point – I will not go into a work environment where sexual harassment is a very real possibility. As much as I need and want a “real” job, I couldn’t work with him, not in a tiny little post office with a handful of employees.

To think when I left the post office, I thought this would have a happy ending (to borrow a friend’s comment from Facebook on the situation).

Live, love, laugh…it makes it all worthwhile!



Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: