Country life is different to city life in many ways, but one of the most significant is the service. People smile at you, ask you how your day has been – and sound like they’re genuinely interested in the answer. But it’s more than that, as I discovered when I went to organise a post office box.
My brother lives in Canberra and his experience of renting a PO box was pretty much what you might expect. Walk in, fill out a form, pay money, get key, walk out.
I called my local post office first, to check that they had a box available. I was told that they did, so I said I’d be down shortly. When I arrived and told the lady at the counter that I was enquiring about a PO box, she explained that she couldn’t organise it for me but she’d get someone who could.
So another lady came to assist, bearing the relevant paperwork. I dutifully took it away and filled it out before returning it for processing. As she entered my details into the system, she said, ‘I think it’s a good idea that you get a post box, given that you’re often not around.’
Now the city version of me would have been slightly unnerved by that, but my country persona recognises that people know what’s going on in their area. It’s actually nice to know that my neighbours are keeping an eye on the place.
Next, I need a box number.
‘Let’s see, what numbers have I got available…’ she murmurs. Turning from the computer screen, she leans forward and looks me up and down. ‘Well,’ she says at length, ‘we won’t give you one of the top boxes.’
The positioning of the box was something I hadn’t even considered. Far from being offended, I was grateful that I wasn’t going to have to bring a step to empty my box. I’m lucky that my post master, while blunt, doesn’t have a twisted sense of humour. Some people would happily have poured through the footage from the security cameras for that kind of entertainment.
But it was what happened next that really made me reflect on the quality of service in the country. She re-read my address and then said, ‘Number 43 … that’s the house on the corner at the top of the hill isn’t it?’
I nodded.
‘Has anyone put a shade cover on the deck on that place yet?’ she asked. ‘It’s dreadfully hot inside the house in summer.’
I informed her that the deck was indeed still uncovered, and agreed that it made the house devilishly hot. Turns out she knew someone who’d previously rented the house, which made her a source of some good potential solutions.
So, I walked out of the post office with a key to a height-appropriate PO box, reassurance that someone was keeping an eye on the place when I travelled, and some new ideas for my back deck. Now that’s what I call service!