Polly's pages (aka 'Donna Williams')

Ever the arty Autie

Post Office Adventures – how much is your postcode?

May20

Aloof By Nature by Donna Williams Our local postmasters are wonderfully autie friendly. However I might get away with being meaning deaf, meaning blind, mono tracked, lacking simultaneous processing of self and other and tumbling pretty much what’s left, these people handle it well with everything from a good natured ‘chuckle with’ to turning a blind eye… CONSTANTLY.

They must be saints, these two. I have walked out without paying so many times (I always come back within the hour, day or week). I have been unable to remember which end is the back of the queue. I walk up to them with the task without saying hello or fail to answer hello to theirs, or I make mine then turn away. I have my vocal tics now and then and the occasional motor tic, sharp clap in front of my face thing which makes me look like I’m swatting a mozzie.

I never have my money ready, can’t learn the paper work, always miss boxes or jump lines on the various forms I have to fill out to post things. I talk over people whose mouths are moving with noise coming out because I can’t process that they are speaking. After all these years I’m still pulling the push and pushing the pull in relation to their door.

I have taken my goods away forgetting to leave them for posting and have arrived ready to post massive parcels without tape, scissors, packaging, anything, then realised I need some. I don’t know if others do so, but I help myself to packaging on their shelves then pay for it at the counter after using it. I hand over cents for things which are dollars and credit card for things which are cents.

But today, well today was a whole new level. You see, the postmasters call out the postcodes on the goods I send. So there was me, having used one of their posting tube thingies to send an artwork I’ve just sold. And as I’m lining up and I’m thinking, maybe today, maybe today I’ll actually get out of here without messing up. I was musing that people could place bets on whether I messed up or in which variety of ways and there’s be rare odds I’d have a day with no mess ups at all.

So the post master sorts out the postage, keys in the cost of the tube thingy, then announces 3042. I get out $3.42 and he tries not to chuckle but I can see a twinkle in his eye.

‘Er, Donna, that’s the postcode’, he said referring to our 4 digit Aussie postcodes.

I look at my money, nothing like the cost of the postage and tube and laugh, ‘Heck, I was thinking I just might actually make it out of here today without a Donnaism but this one’s a doozy’, I muse, ‘So that’s the price of the postcode’.

‘You’re alright, Donna’, he says, just like he always says, ‘have a nice day’. And because of these people, fact is, I do.

Donna Williams *)

http://www.donnawilliams.net

Ever the Arty Autie

author, artist, composer, screenwriter