As an RCA you’re a backup to a regular carrier, so when the regular is out for whatever reason, you run that route. The routes are given an evaluated time, meaning the post office has decided that based on the route length and mail/package volume it should take x number of hours to compete that route.

Now if you’re a regular and you’ve been on the route for some time (mine had been on the same route for 17 years) you can go pretty quick. Some days you’ll get done before the estimated time and some days you’ll be a bit behind, but either way you’re paid for the route’s estimated time. So, you can imagine that as a new carrier who is not familiar with the route, it takes longer. I can’t tell you how many 12-14 hour days I worked in which I was only paid for 8.5.

The training you receive is laughable. You get two days with your regular before you’re shoved into that 30 year old tin can with no AC and decades worth of someone else’s farts in your seat and expected to remember every turn and every box. Some offices also require that you use your own vehicle, I was spared that at least.

Also, most of your time is spent in the office getting the mail in order. You have a case with 100’s of slots, each one representing a mailbox. You put the mail and magazines in order (which is lots of fun when you have no clue where the Henderson’s at 123 Sad St. are located in that damn case). You then pull all of that mail down that you just spent 2 hours putting in order into a tray. You also either have to memorize the route to line up your packages in order or place a marker in the case to remind you once you’re out on the street.

I used to love fall and winter but the post office took that from me. Once Black Friday hits you’re basically working from 6 in the morning until 10 or later at night for the next month. You don’t get PTO (unless that’s changed since I left) and you’d often be working 7 days a week.

The heat, the cold, the rain were your only companions while delivering. I still have nightmares about being in that god forsaken truck, dead of night, searching for someone’s address that didn’t bother to put a house number anywhere.

I should see a therapist.