How ironic, looking back, that the founding of the Post Office (the only governmental agency specifically mentioned within the U.S. Constitution) should stem from the government wanting to generate some early source of revenue for itself. Surveying its state of shambles now, it’s no surprise to anyone who has actively avoided using the Postal Service at all costs that the institution is facing what is projected to be a thirteen billion dollar deficit by the end of the year (on top of overall debt that has doubled above its annual revenue).
Even long before the advent of the internet spelled a certain death for what the USPS had come to represent–the now romanticized practice of mailing letters–the siphoning off of its tax subsidies by the government began in the 1980s, marking the beginnings of an increasing financial vulnerability. As it has continued to compete as a delivery option with the likes of FedEx and UPS (and just Amazon full-stop), motions to privatize the organization have been bandied often by members of the Republican party. Yet for many, this would go against the tradition of what the Post Office means. At the same time, it is an organization that was created during a period when no one could have imagined all of the technological advances that would arise to make the Post Office such an anachronism.
And yet, suddenly, it’s not so much of an anachronism for people to want it to succeed and not be subject to the machinations of the Trump-appointed Postmaster General that is Louis DeJoy (who has no prior experience with the Post Office, quelle shock). As his moves to make budget cuts aimed at “saving” the Post Office have gone into effect, rampant cries of voter suppression have rung out throughout the land. Combating the Post Office’s fledgling power (because money is power and the Post Office does not have the former) has surged in a variety of ways. Including social media accounts like @accidentallywesanderson trying to remind millennials how cute and quaint the Post Office is–right in keeping with that hipster kryptonite.
Alas, millennials are known for despising that which is inconvenient. A trip to a post office in any given metropolis will provide one with just such unbridled inconvenience. As with all bureaucratic institutions, the Post Office has always seemed to get off on being deliberately slow and ineffectual. Worse still, it delivers that odious entity, junk mail (later to appear from numerous others in electronic form as well). This is a matter much lampooned in a season nine episode (aired in October of 1997) of Seinfeld called “The Junk Mail.” Written at a time when the notion of email was still far more germinal than it would be in, say, 1999, when Britney Spears released a song called “E-Mail My Heart” on her debut album, many themes of the episode speak to why the Post Office is in its present state. For it isn’t just because of financial mismanagement and poor legislation (including the Postal Accountability and Enhancement Act, passed by George W. Bush, who people seem to forget in the present is a diabolical dolt no matter how many paintings he shows us) that the Post Office has found itself in this peak crisis of a situation, but a general public sentiment somewhere between apathy and outright contempt.
For Kramer (Michael Richards, racist extraordinaire), it is most definitely the latter as he’s bombarded with junk mail catalogues, particularly those from Pottery Barn (the most pervasive entity around in the late 90s to make it worth a mention within the plot point, as evidenced by a fellow NBC show, Friends). So it is that after a failed attempt at getting back at the corporation itself, he decides to go right to the source.
“I wanna cancel my mail,” Kramer asserts in the same way Ross, also on Friends, at first tries to in wanting to quit the gym (guess it was just something about the 90s that made people feel galvanized to quit things when it was more meaningful and profound than a click to unsubscribe). The stoic postal employee replies, “Certainly. How long would you like us to hold it?”
Kramer bites back, “Oh, no no. I don’t think you get me. I want out. Permanently.”
Newman (Wayne Knight), seeing his fellow building chum, pops out to say, “I’ll handle this Violet. Why don’t you take a three-hour break?” Just another way to shade the post office for its perceived laziness and ineffectuality.
He then approaches Kramer to declare, “Calm down everyone, no one’s cancelling any mail!” The eccentric shoots back, “Oh yes I am.”
Newman, ready with his own boilerplate ammunition, asks, “What about your bills?”
Kramer shrugs, “The bank can pay ‘em.”
Newman presses, “What about your cards and letters?”
Kramer lists all the possible other methods for reliable and sentimental communication: “Email, telephones, fax machines, FedEx, Telex, telegrams, holograms.”
Newman has broken out into a sweat now, admitting, “All right, it’s true! Of course nobody needs mail. What–what do you think? You’re so clever for figuring that one out? But you don’t know the half of what goes on here. So just walk away Kramer.”
A looming supervisor approaches to sternly ask, “Is everything all right here, postal employee Newman?” The supervisor then learns of Kramer’s vitriol, presumably stymying his request.
In retaliation for being prevented from banning the mail from his box, Kramer soon sets up a “Postal Re-education Center” inside a van (“traded” with Jerry for some “Hollywood memorabilia” a.k.a. an undershirt he claims “screen legend Anthony Quinn” wore), with signs declaring, “Mail is evil.” Arguably a stunt one could imagine Donald Trump pulling today were he capable of leaving his Ivory Tower.
As Newman frantically tries to warn Kramer that his overt anti-post office stance is going to get both of them in trouble, it doesn’t take Kramer long to get picked up by the same supervisor that was lurking ominously behind Newman before. Soon after, Kramer finds himself tied up at the post office and face to face with the Postmaster General himself: a stereotypical white-haired and mustachioed white male (played by Wilford Brimley parodying a scene in Absence of Malice) who is most upset of all that Kramer has taken away from his golf game with the Secretary of State. Strong-arming him into remembering that having a title with the word “general” in it means he’s obligated to get things done. Including impose the will of the Post Office on those who do not necessarily find it useful anymore. But just as hand sanitizer and grocery store employees earlier this year, that which everyone once balked at and had no concern for prior to pandemic conditions seems to be what they all at once find so essential. How quickly we change our tune when we realize that something can serve our long-term well-being.
Thus, with so much shit talking and eye rolling about the Post Office for so long, the sudden concern for its health and success comes too little, too late. And there is no question that its state of financial ruin (regardless of Louis DeJoy presently assuring the masses that his budget cut plans won’t go into effect until after November) will certainly affect the timely arrival of mail-in ballots during the election.
But go ahead, keep buying stamps and telling yourself that you’re doing your part. That you care about the Post Office when we all know that it’s an entity only the baby boomers have espoused affection for in the recent past–despised as they are by the subsequent generations that have accused them of ruining everything. And if (/when) the election doesn’t go one’s way, that’s the first institution that the mob will lay the blame on. In any event, let’s just hope the trend of “going postal” established by David Berkowitz doesn’t start to become popular again this year as the Post Office is pushed to its operational brink.
