The Day the Humans Came to the Post Office

When I think about the things I like to do the least, a few things come to mind: going to the DMV, getting my wisdom teeth pulled, and going to the post office to renew my passport. Even worse than renewing my passport is taking my 12-year-old son out of school to renew his passport. And even worse still is when the passport is for a trip one week away, and his passport has expired!

But last Thursday at 12:15 p.m., that’s what we had to do.

Why 12:15? Because we had an appointment. But at this particular post office on this particular day, appointments didn’t matter. Yet I didn’t know that when I walked in, proudly carrying a huge file of forms that had been filled out, photos that had been taken, and checks that had been written (I even brought an extra, just in case). Best of all, I hadn’t forgotten Daniel. Man, was I organized.

So I thought.

Instead of going up to the counter for our appointment, we had to wait in line. Daniel, a typical 12-year-old boy who can’t sit or stand still, was propping himself up on any furniture he could find. And we waited. When it was finally our turn, I smiled and presented my forms to the woman behind the counter. She didn’t seem like she was in the best of moods to begin with, and right away she got into a heated debate with her colleague about which forms were necessary and how one of the rules had recently changed. When she pulled out a massive three ring binder, I knew I was screwed.

With a blank and stare and virtually no emotion, the woman “helping me” declared that I was missing the new form.

Daniel and I raced home, brought back the document, waited in line (again). We were ready to get this baby processed. My new PO frenemy then found something else that was wrong, something that she hadn’t discovered the first time, with zero acknowledgement or apology. I ran out, made a photocopy (of course they don’t have photocopiers at this post office, though I am sure this happens multiple times a day), came back, and said to myself, “third time’s a charm,” hoping Daniel could be back at school in time for science class.

However, instead of finishing what would have taken ten minutes max, she announced to me (at this point I was the only person in the passport line, and did I mention I had an appointment?) that she was leaving. Not only for lunch, but for her break on top of lunch, which would bring us to 3:30 p.m. which was when passport services closed for the day.

I am not kidding.

I was surprisingly calm, but when I realized I would have to take Daniel out of school another day and start all over, I started to lose it. I tried every way I could think of to connect with her human to human, but she was not having it.

I was exhausted, starving, exasperated, and stressed. So I figured it was a good time to find another post office.

I took a deep breath, and Daniel and I dashed to the nearest one that accepts walk-ins. Within seconds, something felt different. First, there was a dedicated part of the post office for passports that was light and bright. My shoulders fell, and I exhaled for the first time in hours (YES! Space matters!) Then I heard a voice say, “Hello, how I may I help you?” She told me that I was in the right place and that I just had to wait for a few minutes.

Daniel and I got in line, and we couldn’t help but overhear the conversation going on between the postal worker and the customer ahead of us in line. Like me, this woman had taken off time from work in the middle of the day, and had a file with all of her forms. The postal worker (whose name I later found out was Aisha) asked her where she was going on her trip and why she picked Italy. She sympathized with the customer about all of the crazy forms she had to bring with her. When Aisha realized that the women had forgotten the last part—her check—she was empathetic. She was so…human. As I watched Aisha and the customer, I felt my oxytocin (my feel-good hormone) go up, and I found myself wanting to help. 

I approached the counter and said, “Excuse me. I have been through this exact rigamarole today. I know what you’re going through. If Aisha can process my passport, and I don’t need the extra “just-in-case” check that I brought, it’s yours.” The woman had tears in her eyes and watched and waited to see if Aisha and I could pull this off. Did I finally have all of my forms correctly filled out?

As Aisha began to systematically chip away at the pile, the whole room watched, then cheered when we discovered that I was done! Daniel’s passport application was complete. I gave my extra check to the customer along with my address to pay me back.

A week went by, and I had forgotten all about it. Then a card came in the mail with a check for the amount, along with a Starbucks gift card (my favorite!).

The note read:

Dear Erica,

I cannot thank you enough for your act of kindness and for saving me a dreadful trip to the post office.

You have restored my faith in humanity.

What a kind thing to say. But it all started with Aisha, who brought her human to work. Which is good for people, great for business, and just might change the world.

My book Bring Your Human to Work: Ten Sure-Fire Ways to Design a Workplace That is Good for People, Great for Business and Just Might Change the World, being published by McGraw-Hill this fall, is now available for pre-order.