My job: Keeping me humble.

I hate to fail at things. It's quite possibly my arch nemesis. Failing and airports, actually. This past Monday was full of small failures, which, as I'm sure you know (and if you don't, yours is indeed a charmed life), makes the day feel like one big, fat fail.

I'd had several things go wrong on Monday. Little things. Bigger things. I also felt like I'd been run over by a Mack truck. It was a Jonah Day, to all of the Anne fans out there. So, here's the anecdote of my ineptitude for the simplest of tasks:

I was sent to mail a packet of papers to a Union employee who lives in another city. I have done this several times, and let's face it, that's just not a hard task no matter how many times you've done it. Also, it's INFINITELY easier than the dreaded post office expeditions in Ukraine (and yes, "expedition" is a very appropriate word here), so I wasn't even full of apprehension or anything. I very mindlessly gathered up the papers and the note that I'd written to go with them and headed off to the post office (not the one on campus). I was quite literally almost there when I realized that I had everything I needed- except for the address to mail the package to! Really, Erin? I imagined myself getting everything ready to mail and then standing there, looking like a fool, with no where to mail the package.

I tried to think of a way to locate the address without having to alter my travel plans (i.e. would my boss have it on her? or had I ever stored it on my phone?)...nope...the only place it was saved was in my work email. I don't have a smart phone, so I was actually going to have to be at a computer to retrieve it. I detoured to my house (it worked out- I was able to change into jeans for the evening ahead of me) and began searching through trillions of old emails. It took me a good 10 minutes to sift through all of the emails and find the address. I made a point of saving it in my phone this time.

I scurried off to the post office because a) it was going to close soon and b) I was becoming later and later for my meeting. The postal place I went to isn't really a USPS place; it's a little place owned by an older man and his wife. The wife was working with me and being very friendly. And very slow. I could count the seconds ticking by while she moved as though she (or I) had no rush or hurry (there's probably a good life lesson there, but I was way not focused on that). Then she asked me a bunch of questions that I wasn't entirely sure of the answers to: overnight? yes. Morning or afternoon? Uh...morning, I think. Required recipient's signature? Oh...hadn't thought of that...I hope she's home in the morning...um...sure.

I forgot how thoroughly specific you can be about sending mail in this country. It's amazing and intimidating at the same time. It's also pretty amazing that Julie ever received that package, given my I-can't-accomplish-basic-tasks-or-answer-basic-questions Monday mindset. Sheesh.