There has been a lot of blogging, and subsequent print reporting, about the abysmal state of postal service in Brooklyn, particularly about the lackadaisical, unresponsive, contemptuous behavior of postal stations workers, who seem to go out of their way not to help you.
Well, I believe in giving credit where credit is due, so I feel I must pass on this unlikely tale. And I don't blame you if you find it incredible.
I was passing down Atlantic Avenue near Flatbush, when my five-year-old spotted the Times Plaza Station of the post office and reminded me that my wife had requested I pick up stamps. I shuddered, remembering my past experiences at this branch, but the kid was insistent, so I went in. There was a long line for the windows. I went over to the stamp machine and found it was out of order. OK, par for the course so far. So I went back to the line, steeling myself for a long wait.
Suddenly, a smiling woman in a postal uniform approached me and asked "Are you in line for postal services?" I replied yes, I only needed some stamps, but the machine was broken. "Did you know you can get stamps from that machine?," pointing to a package-weighing contraption that I had always assumed was only good for securing postage for large boxes and such.
I said I had never used one, and she said, "Would you like me to show you how to use it?" She took me out of the line and led me step by step through a process that resulted in a sheet of 20 stamps. She never left my side. I have never been so completely aided in any post office across this great land. I exited the building stunned and wondered which borough I was in.