Your postcard story reminds me of a long ago time when I was applying for jobs and just out of college. I lived with my boyfriend in Nashville, TN. He was getting his PhD but I was largely effacing myself. I kept dropping my applications and resumes in this one postbox on my street. It was 1986. I heard nothing for weeks. Looking for a job through snail mail was miserable. One day the post lady and I bumped into each other as she was going to pick up the mail. She opened the box and yelped when literally hundreds and hundreds of letters came cascading out. “Woo Eee!” she exclaimed, “I guess this hasn’t been picked up in a month!”
Your postcard story reminds me of a long ago time when I was applying for jobs and just out of college. I lived with my boyfriend in Nashville, TN. He was getting his PhD but I was largely effacing myself. I kept dropping my applications and resumes in this one postbox on my street. It was 1986. I heard nothing for weeks. Looking for a job through snail mail was miserable. One day the post lady and I bumped into each other as she was going to pick up the mail. She opened the box and yelped when literally hundreds and hundreds of letters came cascading out. “Woo Eee!” she exclaimed, “I guess this hasn’t been picked up in a month!”