MayDay! MayDay!

Mental Health Days and Go Union Strong!

Happy May Day and Mental Health Awareness Month! Blessed Beltane! May the Fourth Be With You, and Feliz Cinco de Mayo! 

Oh, May, you bring so much joy and feisty festivity. You bring me violet blossoms sprinkled on my dinner salad, my first sunburn of 2024, wild ducks visiting my pond, and nighttime trees singing with peepers. 

I’m here for it all.

I’m feeling more present in my body than I have in a long time, and a large part of that is due to the two days I just took off work, neither of which were planned. 

Friday was a mental health day — the first one I’ve taken since joining USPS in December, and long overdue. There’s no time like Mental Health Month to remind yourself that mental health is a vital part of overall health. I took a day off because the stress from working at the post office was making me physically ill —  so much so that my nurse practitioner asked how soon I could find another job. 

Hopefully soon.

There’s also some bullshit going on at work. A lot of bullshit, actually, but only some of it directly affects me.

So, all things considered, I walked into the post office the day after my mental health day with a letter of resignation in hand. 

I quickly learned my usual supervisor was off that day, and the only management staff on board was a hot-headed asshat with a serious anger problem. 

Standing at the front desk with letter in hand, I braced myself for the worst. What erupted still blew me away.

Mr. Asshat approached and asked how I was feeling, flashing his signature creepy smile.

“Pretty good, I have a letter of resignation,” I smiled right back.

“Oh no!” he said.

He took the letter, which was addressed to: Josh/Nate/Bryce/etc. 

The first three names are wonderful managers and some of the best bosses I’ve ever had. Mr. Asshat falls under “etc.”

I imagine this started things off on the wrong foot.

Asshat started yelling at me with a very condescending tone because that’s how he handles every situation in which things don’t go his way.

Around this time, the rural carrier’s Union Steward magically appeared, angel wings spread wide and a cloud of pixie dust surrounded her.

Another thing about May 1st is that it’s also a day to celebrate worker’s rights. I didn’t know that until recently, probably because I’ve been a self-employed flower child for the past seven years. 

I joined the union when I joined USPS, but I had no idea what they’d actually do for me. I was accustomed to being the only one in my business, and therefore, the only one to fight for myself. I was also the one in charge and could walk away from a bad client whenever I wanted.

The bullshit that caused me to write that letter of resignation had me feeling like I was standing in the eye of a hurricane and screaming for help. I had made the mistake of turning to management for help instead of going straight to my fairy godmother/Union Steward. I kept getting told they’d take care of it tomorrow. There were so many other fires to put out. 

And there were. There always are. 

But that doesn’t mean I should be left burning.

My Union Steward listened to my problem. She understood why I was so angry. We went outside to talk about the next best steps, and she told me she didn’t want me to leave (which is actually the sweetest thing she’s ever said, even though I know it’s because she wants me to cover her route when she takes a vacation at the end of the month).

But Angry Asshat busted into our conversation (which he had no right to do) and started yelling again. He said a lot of things that I’ll skip over because you’d need to know more background than I’m willing to share here. The conversation ended with Asshat telling me I no longer worked for USPS. This is not something he has the authority to do. USPS is a government job, and like all things government, firing an employee is a long process that involves paperwork, meetings, and signatures from people who actually have the authority to terminate my position (again, not him).

Side note, it’s really, really hard to get fired from USPS. I’d probably have to actually kill someone, and even then… the union would probably get me my job back.

But Asshat was in such a state, I knew arguing was a lost cause. He was like a little dog barking at me from ankle height. I was just not willing to get down so low and bark back.

So, I handed in my badge and walked across the street to meet Jason for coffee.

When I got home, I cried. I crumpled. I panicked about money. I got ready to wash dishes at the restaurant where my husband cooks.

I didn’t take anything Asshat said personally, I just fucking hate injustice.

But then my friend Jeff from the post office called and told me to get off the phone with him and call the Regional Union Representative, Colleen. “You need to call her right now.”

I was planning to cry all day and deal with this Monday, but I got off the phone with Jeff and called Colleen.

Immediately, I felt her own angel wings lift me up and dry my tears. She listened, she sympathized, and she gave me hope. Most importantly, she told me exactly what to do, which involved rescinding my letter of resignation and calling Liz, my Union Steward, who would help me from there. 

I realized I was no longer alone at the center of this hurricane, but suddenly found myself flanked by two strong and intelligent lionesses, teeth bared and ready to fight.

Now I know what a union does and why they’re valuable.

Liz and Colleen each said a lot of things to me, but the most important messages were:

• I hear you

• Your concerns are valid

• You have my support

That alone lifted a huge weight from my shoulders and is worth every penny of union dues. Working with my union representatives has felt like a cross between hiring a lawyer and being a bride on my wedding day at only a sliver of a fraction of the cost of either of those things. Liz even got my badge back for me.

I’m going back to work on Monday, and not leaving until I choose to.

Take that, Asshat!

Go union.

XoL