Out of the Mailroom

I remember loving hide and seek when I was little because I was so good at the hiding part. Whoever was “it,” it never mattered who, would always end up finding me last if at all. Even though it was never technically allowed, my best friend would always get all the other kids he had already found to look for me too. Even then, I was difficult to find. My secret was always my patience and my ability to find the darkest, most confined space to be patient in. So I know I wasn’t born claustrophobic and yet I still have a bit of a panic attack every morning when I go down to the mailroom.

The mailroom is in the basement where there are no windows for any natural light to come through. There’s only the droning buzz of the neon lights to keep the three—I mean two of us company. Roger is the oldest and isn’t much of a social butterfly which would explain why he is usually so comfortable in this steel and concrete cocoon. If there’s anyone in charge of the mail it would be him. I’m not entirely convinced that they had found him when they excavated the area and decided to construct this office building around him but he comes in and does his job. Whether or not he enjoys his job is another question entirely.

Mark is—was the intern here and worked in the mailroom all of two weeks. Neither Roger nor I were entirely sure that he was ever here in an official capacity or if he was just some other department’s responsibility they literally wanted to put underground. Whatever the case he was pulled up from this perdition called the mailroom and was given a job in advertising. I hated the kid to be quite honest. He was always talking and messing up the way we distributed the mail. He would take long breaks, even longer lunch breaks, and he was always the last to come in and first to leave. I deliver to advertising a lot and had only seen him that first week he got the job. Someone had mentioned that he had moved on to a better position at a rival company. It infuriates me when incompetence is rewarded.

The only thing I hated about Mark was the job itself. Sure, Roger is all right to get along with and it’s far from a stressful position. But the pay is really shitty with no real hope for any kind of promotion unless you’re a douche bag intern, apparently. Roger hated the job too but he was just six months from retirement so I guess he felt he owed it to himself. I’m not convinced that any gold watch is nice enough to warrant a lifetime in the mailroom. If I had anywhere else I could be, I would definitely be there because as nice a guy as Roger is, I’d hate to end up like him.

I did all the deliveries because Roger’s hip replacement two years ago prevented him from doing much walking and deliveries are nothing but. It was normally the best part of my day because I wasn’t stuck behind a desk thumbing my nose at a phone that rings so rarely I have to check every so often if it’s actually plugged into the phone jack. The novelty of visiting other floors and seeing people your age so much more successful than you wears thin. But because I was the only who could physically make the deliveries (and heaven forbid that any of them come down to the basement to get their mail) I still had to make my runs.

Normally I would never make runs to the graphic department except once in a while since most of what they do is digitally sent in and out. They seem like nice people, which is great because you never know what you get with creative sorts. Every once in a while you get the pompous sort of artist who, one would think, was born into the world with shorter muscles on the back of their neck so that they naturally walk around turning their nose up at everything. Usually you get the people who see the world in such a different light that they look at you strangely for not seeing the world in the same odd way they do. But from what I can tell it’s hardly either extreme but a healthy mix of both; a mix that I can deal with. One particular day, however, would have me hoping to have a package to bring to the graphics department for every day afterwards.

There are days that are so mundane that I nearly throw my back out from the constant leering over from my swivel chair to see if the clock on the wall read 5 o’clock yet. That particular day was actually one of those days. I would have left early, were it not for ever present eyes of Roger. It was 4:54pm and I was counting down the seconds before it was time to finally clock out until a package arrived for the graphics department. Roger called me up to make the delivery and I cursed under my breath before getting up and heading to the elevator. Each ding in the elevator whenever it would pass a floor very well could have been the ticking off the clock to quitting time. I approached the front desk and read the name on the package, asking for “Courtney.” The receptionist, Janet, phoned her up and when Courtney approached me I totally lost track of time.

“Hey,” Courtney said.

“Um,” I was very eloquent.

“Is that for me?”

“Um,” again very eloquent, “Yes… You’re Courtney, right? I mean, of course, you are. Why wouldn’t you be? That’s from me. I’m Jerry. I mean, that’s not FROM me that’s from whoever sent that package. I mean, obviously you can see that right there… on the package. I’m not from that company. I’m actually from this company. I came from the mail room.” I’m sure it was a charming first impression. After all, she smiled at me as she took the package.

“Thanks, Jerry from the mailroom,” she said as she smiled again and walked back to her desk.

“Smooth, Jerry,” I hear someone say.

“Shut up, Janet,” I said as I marched back into the elevator. But this time I was less eager to clock out than I had been just minutes before. I now had a reason to come into work each day. She wasn’t too tall, had jet black hair and these gray eyes that somehow managed to sparkle in an otherwise drably lit office. And then there was that smile. For all I knew that smile she flashed me (twice, mind you) was her “just being polite” smile but it was more than enough to win me over. I’ve never been one for fashion but I imagine the first person to come up with a design for professional women’s wear had someone like Courtney in mind. Before then, I thought business attire was frankly kind of boring.

The next day, I couldn’t fill my mail cart quick enough. I was looking for packages specifically to bring to graphics and nothing. It was the same the next day and the next. By the end of the month, I was beginning to wonder if the company had gotten rid of the graphics department.

“Why don’t you just go up there and talk to her?” Roger asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you’re just looking for an excuse to see her again. And you know that department hardly ever gets mail through here.”

“What are you--?”

Roger just looked at me. I had to admit, he had me pegged.

“How’d you know?”

“When you get to be my age you realize that there are certain reasons for why certain people act the way they do. And the way you were practically clicking your heels after you made that last delivery to graphics a couple weeks ago was pretty obvious,” he said as he smirked that wise, old man smirk. And then he had to ruin the magic by saying, “Also Janet’s a pretty big gossip and she told me all about it when I bumped into her at lunch the other day.”

“That bitch!” I said sarcastically. Then something dawned on me. “You don’t think Courtney knows do you? That’d just make things awkward.”

“So Courtney’s her name? Pretty. Janet’s a big mouth but she’s not too keen on details so I doubt she’s ratted you out. If it’s any consolation, she said if you weren’t such a ‘spaz’ you’d look good with her.”

“Really? Janet said that?”

“Yeah,” Roger said as a delivery man walked in. The old man signed for it as he continued. “I think you should just go up there and strike up a conversation and see where it goes.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that! What if I have nothing to say? What if I end up looking like some lovesick puppy dog? Or worse! What if I come off a bit too strong and stalker-ish?”

“Always with the questions and self-doubt,” Roger took the signed package and threw it to me, “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

I looked at the writing on the side of the package and it was for the graphics department but it wasn’t for anyone specifically.

“It might be urgent. You better deliver that now,” Roger said.

“I don’t see any ‘Urgent’ stamp--” I said but was interrupted when Roger smacked the side of the package with his own “Urgent” stamp.

“Now, get out of my sight,” he said as he waived me off. Reluctantly, I marched towards the elevator. When I reached the floor for graphics, Janet had a surprised look in her eyes.

“Back for more, Romeo?” she asked sarcastically.

“Actually, I’ve got this package for you guys.”

“I don’t remember expecting a package,” she leaned in and whispered, “Did you make up a package so you can see your girlfriend?”

“What? No! Roger gave this to me to bring up here!”

Janet got on the phone and dialed someone up to get the parcel. I wasn’t aware who it was she called.

“How is Roger, anyway? I owe him a brownie recipe.”

“Roger bakes? I didn’t know Roger bakes.”

“If you can call that baking. His brownies are more like pieces of charcoal with walnuts in them.”

“Hi,” Courtney said as she approached the desk. “You wanted me to pick something up?”

I scowled at Janet and she smirked victoriously back at me.

“Yes, honey,” Janet said to Courtney, “This gentleman brought it up from the mailroom and offered to buy me lunch. Do you want to come?”

“What?” I whispered to Janet.

“Sure, I’d love to!” Courtney answered. “Let me get my coat first. I’ll put the package in the conference room.”

“What are you doing?!” I asked.

“Doing what you can’t, Romeo,” she answered, “Fixing you up on a date with Courtney!”

“I didn’t ask you to do that!”

“You didn’t have to.”

“So she’s single?”

“Honestly, I don’t know too much about her. She’s kind of private, keeps to herself. I’m actually a little surprised she said yes to this little get together.”

“So am I! Especially with the free lunch part!”

“Relax, I’ll take care of lunch. A friend of my brother’s owns this place downtown. You can take the credit for paying though. I’m sure she’ll love that.”

“All right!” Courtney said as she returned, “Where are we going? I’m Courtney by the way.” She reached out her hand and I shook it. Admittedly a part of me shuttered when her fingertips touched the palm of my hand.

“Jerry. Pleased to meet you.”

“You two go on ahead and I’ll meet you there.”

“Sure,” Courtney answered as I scowled at Janet one more time. “So, Jerry, where are we headed?”

“Some place that Janet’s brother’s friend owns downtown.”

We got into the elevator and as we arrived to the restaurant Janet’s brother’s friend approached me with the all-too-convenient news that Janet would be unable to make it. I didn’t even know this guy and he was shooting me the wink-and-the-gun routine from afar. The good news was that lunch was indeed free. The better news is that I got along really well with Courtney and got to know her a little bit better. Inevitably when there’s good news and better news, there’s always a downside. And fortunately or unfortunately for me (depending on how you look at it) the bad news came pretty early on our lunch date. When she took the menu from our waiter I could plainly see a large diamond ring on her hand.

She really was pretty private. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t like she was keeping a marriage secret this whole time she was working with Janet or anything. What Courtney explained was that that weekend, her longtime boyfriend proposed to her. I’ll give you a guess as to what her answer was. And she wasn’t the type of person to announce that type of news to her co-workers. Dejected was the closest word I could think to describe what I was feeling at that very moment she told me about it. Well, it’s the best word I could think of without making this part of the story too vulgar. We said our goodbyes and made our way to our respective departments; her to graphics and me to the deep dungeon basement of the mailroom.

“Are you all right?” Roger asked.

“She’s engaged,” I answered, slumping over my desk and banging my head on top of it.

“Is that right? I’m sorry.”

It was quiet in the mailroom for a few seconds save for the incessant hum of the neon lights overhead.

“I’ll be honest Roger. I’m thinking of quitting.”

“Kid, I know that finding out the girl you like is taken is a bit of a blow to the ego but I think quitting is a bit dramatic, even for you.”

“No, it’s not that—what do you mean ‘even for you’?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me in the morning. And yes, this isn’t a glamorous job. No one in their right minds would aspire to be in the position I’m in right now. But I had kids at an early age and never went to college. I got this job to feed my family and they kept adding to my paycheck until I realized I was damned near retirement. You got this job so you’ve got something to do until you get a better job. You have no family to take care of so why don’t you get a better job?”

“So what are you saying?”

“If you’re going to quit, you should know why you’re quitting. This isn’t about some girl though I expect that’s why you stayed. You’ve got a whole lifetime waiting to be lived, buddy. And I’d hate to see you waste it away in here.”

“So you think you’ve wasted your life in here?”

“I provided for my family. I did it with a mind numbing task that, let’s be honest, the company was just too cheap to buy a computer to do instead of me. But I’ve got a reason to be here. My son and two daughters, the youngest is about to finish college. College! They all got degrees even if their old man doesn’t.”

“That’s great, Roger. I didn’t know that. But my life to this point is pretty shitty.”

“Sometimes, life is shitty. A lot of times, in fact, it’s REALLY shitty and there’s nothing you can do about it. No matter how much you prepare or how hard you work, you’ll just find yourself hating where you are in life with no light at the end of the tunnel. And when you’re trapped like that you’ve got two choices: 1. Get out and put yourself in a position to be happier. Quit and start over somewhere else or 2. Find that one reason you should stay. And my one reason is my family. That’s the ONLY reason I’ve been here as long as I have.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“I couldn’t tell you either. Mark might have been an asshole who set us back a few months with the work he never did but he knew to get out of here. And I know you’re smarter than that jackass.”

“You’re okay with me quitting.”

“Don’t worry about me. I get a gold watch soon. If you do quit just do me and yourself a favor.”

“What’s that, Roger?”

“Quit because you’re headed somewhere better for you. And keep in touch. Now, let’s get the afternoon mail delivered.”

I stayed in the mailroom for another month before officially quitting. In that time I actually had a few more lunches with Courtney who had recently contacted me at my new job. She’s setting me up with a good friend of hers and we’re going on a first date this weekend. Roger retired and threw a large party to show off his new gold watch. It was nice to see him and Janet again.

“How long has it been?” Janet asked.

“Just over a year,” I answered.

“Wow, time flies. Roger says you’re doing well.”

“Um, yeah. Surprisingly, I am. I’m a junior copywriter at this ad agency just a few blocks from where you guys are.”

“Then it’s a good thing you left.”

“It’s a good thing I delivered that package.”

“What package?”

“The package I brought up when you blindsided me with a lunch date with Courtney?”

“Oh, right! I owed Roger a brownie recipe for that one!” Janet said as she laughed boisterously.

“I don’t get it.”

“We knew about your little crush on Courtney the moment you first laid eyes on her. I said you were never going to have the gumption to come up to our floor and just talk to her. He disagreed and said he could find a way to get you up there. I told him if he could get you up there then I’d fix you two up on a lunch date! And I said I’d finally give up my brownie recipe which I did. He still can’t bake to save his own life.”

“That cheeky bastard set me up!”

“He’s a clever old man. He turned a boring job into a beautiful family.”

“And a gold watch. So what was in that package if it wasn’t really from a client?”

“Let’s just say the head of the graphics department asked me to send a thank you not to whoever sent out the lovely box of walnut embedded charcoal.”

It’d be the easy way out to look at my time in the mailroom as a horrible slump in my professional and personal life. Sure the pay was shitty and there was no way in hell I was going to be moving up from that position in any foreseeable future. But the company I kept was pretty awesome. I did end up with a better job because of Roger’s little talk. He didn’t seem like a guy who would give out advice to people unless they were his own kids. Maybe he saw a little bit of his younger self in me and didn’t want me to make the mistakes he made. Or maybe he saw that what I was looking for wasn’t going to be found in the depths of the mailroom. Whatever it was, I’m sure glad he helped me find my way out.