When I landed in Zurich and was rummaging through my bag, which, as always, was too large, in search of a passport, two envelopes fell into my hand. One contained a friend’s card, the other an electric company’s check. Although I live in the epicenter of the technology industry, so to speak, electronic banking is almost unknown here. So every two weeks, I carefully fill out checks by hand, put them in envelopes, pack them, and ship them on time. Or leave them in my pocket.
Because America doesn’t have a 30-day pay period or reminder system, I had to act quickly so as not to risk Victor suddenly being left home in the dark. My first walk in my old home country took me to the post office. A long time ago I went to the Swiss post office. I was amazed: how beautiful, how bright, how beautiful, how everything is organized! The vending machine that I got the number from. Light panels in every corner to tell me when it’s my turn. Shelves filled with craft supplies, paperback books, souvenirs that I could walk around and continue the list of gifts. Comfortable, clean and at the same time slender chairs against the wall in case it takes longer. But my turn quickly came, took my stamps, stuck them on top of the American ones and sent the envelopes on the road with a plea for speedy transportation.
My friends could not understand my enthusiasm. – How bad are you? I considered. Horrible? The last president almost closed the post office for political reasons. Severe budget cuts, mass layoffs, even existing sorting machines were removed from stores. The consequences were devastating and are still being felt after the change of power. I take half a day off to go to the post office. The lines are always endless, the shelves with forms are empty, and the people behind the counter are hopelessly overwhelmed. And pens get stolen all the time. The plastic chains they were once tied to hang mournfully into the void.
On the other hand, you automatically enter into a conversation with other people who are waiting for you. Small talk is the national sport here. At first it was very strange for me, but I have learned to appreciate it. Simply because it kills time. And then the employees. They don’t show their stress, soon treat you like regular customers, remember names and faces. For example Janet. An elderly woman with long dark hair, narrow eyes, and always artfully painted and decorated nails. She welcomes everyone with a compliment. This doesn’t necessarily make the snake move faster, but the day is saved.
“Compliment? In the mail? Isn’t that intrusive?” I shake my head, trying to describe what it’s like when you’re finally ahead of the line on a hectic day of business and Janet smiles at you so wide her face is finely lined.
“The sun will rise as soon as you enter,” she says. And the way she shines, I even believe her. i shine