Why I LOVE the P.O.

Not surprisingly, about a week after I ran out of mailing labels, I ran out of stamps.

So on this warm, sunny Friday afternoon, I go into my local post office. The line is just four deep, and there are three workers on duty. I am called up within a minute or less by a guy about my age. He has slicked back hair and an air of Vinnie Barbarino about him.

"What can I do for you today?"

"Could I get a roll of --"

"-- We don't have rolls --"

"-- postcard stamps?"

Vinnie smiles broadly. "Oh, sorry! Yes, that we have! How many you want? There's a hundred in a roll, you know."

"Just one."

Vinnie pops a roll onto the counter and says, "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Could I see all the different first class stamps you have?"

At this, I expect some balking, or at least a little drop in Vinnie's enthusiasm.

But no! "Sure!" he says. He slides open a big draw with a bang and starts pulling out sheets of colorful postage. "We got bicycles, we got O. Henry. He's like, like a literary guy... we got cherry blossoms" -- Vinnie looks at me -- "You like cherry blossoms?"

I say, "Yeah, yeah, I like cherry blossoms. I'll take those and the O. Henry and the bicycles. What else you got?"

"We got baseball --"

"--Definitely no baseball for me --"

"--We got the Disney cars --"

"I've had those already, maybe this is enough?"

"We got Miles Davis and Edith Piaf --"

"WHAT?" I exclaim.

Vinnie grins and hands me the Miles and Edith without a word.

Sixty-eight dollars later, I am ready to correspond again.