When I was little I went everywhere with my parents..one of the places we went was to the post office.
There was a little window there..and my Mom would get stamps. I was too little to see what was going on behind the wall. I was always curious.. what happens back there? When I got a little taller I could see the wooden floor was scuffed and worn from the wheeled carts that were pushed around. The big old containers were made of green canvas ..how much mail could they hold? Where were all those letters going?
I think I would have liked sorting the mail..getting all the letters and magazines in their proper mail boxes.
Far Guy handles all our postal business in our nearest small town..there are idiots working there. I go either 7 miles west or 14 miles east to go to a post office where there are no idiots:)