Work Type: Ray Romine Poems

What a shame, what a shame!
With a sack on my shoulder and lead in my feet, each day is the same;
I must walk sixteen miles so a lot of silly asses can get a
whopping-big armful of magazines, then say in the same way:
“Is THIS ALL I get today?”

And so a lot of people who expect to have their mail dropped to where
they can reach it from their pet easy chair
Can have a large toothy Chow or German Police-dog tied so I can’t get there;
And so they can say, knowing full well, if he does, they won’t have to make it right–
“HE won’t BITE.”

And so the customers can bawl me out for not whistlin’–
I know it’s an old postal custom from back when the mail used to be light,
But the load of freight on my back now makes me feel more like bristlin’;
And in summer or in winter-time
They can make the most asinine remarks concerning the clime:
“ls it HOT enough for you?” or “COLD enough for you?” or WET enough for you?” or “DRY enough for you?”
Wouldn’t it bore you?

And so they can ask me to break every rule known to the Postmaster General,
To accomodate THEM, unabashed–
And then report ME if one end of a package I take them is slightly mashed.
And so they can say, sitting on their respective overstuffed patios I have not:
“What a SNAP you’ve got!”

And so the poor grocer right now can have a button,
Because he is nearly dead, tied to reports and coupons and point values,
While I hop around like Betty Hutton;
And if I stop to breathe 5 minutes in a grocery or filling station,
Folks think of the fact I can’t put in my time any other way that is an indication!

Here’s the-upshot of this poetic fit:
If I don’t like it, I can quit.
But I can’t argue and I can’t fight,
For the CUSTOMER is ALWAYS RIGHT!

And people hafta SOME amusement get:
Which is why we, as postmen, get paid, I bet.

by Ray Romine Sunday, April 11, 1943