I was walking back from bringing my son to school this morning and I finally got the chance to chat with the postman who I’ve seen on his morning round for many, many years.
I’ve always envied him – especially over the last couple of years – seeing him rushing from house to house. He has a bicycle and does that postie thing; you know, throwing his leg over as the bike is moving. He even he has a Norman Wisdom hairstyle. Old school. Think 1950s.
When he’s not biking from street to street, he’s jogging and vaulting over dividing walls and railings to get from one door to the next. Like a teenager.
I said, “I don’t suppose there are many postman jobs going these days [since Ireland’s economic downturn]?”
“No, especially now they want to let go of 1400 staff.”
I tactfully said – so as not to insult him, “I’m sure your job’s not easy but I’ve often thought I’d love to do it…”
He replied, “It’s not bad at all, lots of fresh air and I usually finish at 11, so I have the whole rest of the day free.”
“Yeah! A bit different from a desk job, and it’d keep you fit. You start really early don’t you – and sometimes you work later?”
He said, “Especially coming up to Christmas,” with a smile. “Give it a go.”
“Well,” I said, “It doesn’t seem likely now that they’re cutting jobs and there’s been a moratorium on state job-hiring.” This is true, unless they’re hiring top management people who get paid hundreds of thousands per year with huge bonuses, gold-plated pensions and golden handshakes – which cause public uproar every couple of months and then it gets forgotten again. Ireland eh?
Maybe someday… You know, it was only when I got up close that I could see that he’s well into his 50s. Fitter than he should be.