Postman Chris

I recently found myself out of work. The reality was that I was only unemployed for about a month. While I was trying to get back into Engineering, I under took temporary for the Royal Mail.

Why the Royal Mail you may well ask. My Dad lost his job with a local engineering firm in the early 1980’s and after a few temporary jobs, he joined the Royal Mail as a mail sorter and the then New Gatwick Mail Centre. He worked there until he retired about 15 years later. I was aware that they used to employ a lot of temporary staff during the run up to Christmas when I spotted an advert in the local paper, I applied. I was subsequently invited to an interview, which turned out to be a paperwork filling exercise. The term ‘Interview’ seemed to be pushing the concept somewhat. I got the impression that if you could fill out the required forms correctly, you were already in. I was asked which shift I’d like and given a start date.

Gatwick Mail Centre

Why the Royal Mail you may well ask. My Dad lost his job with a local engineering firm in the early 1980’s and after a few temporary jobs, he joined the Royal Mail as a mail sorter and the then New Gatwick Mail Centre. He worked there until he retired about 15 years later. I was aware that they used to employ a lot of temporary staff during the run up to Christmas when I spotted an advert in the local paper, I applied. I was subsequently invited to an interview, which turned out to be a paperwork filling exercise. The term ‘Interview’ seemed to be pushing the concept somewhat. I got the impression that if you could fill out the required forms correctly, you were already in. I was asked which shift I’d like and given a start date. 

Me as a Royal Mail Minion

   

It was chaos on day one. There were hundreds of us all trying to sign on at once and few people there could grasp the concept of orderly queuing and finding their names on the list quickly. Then it was time for a safety brief, manual handling training and a tour of the Mail Centre. The work involved moving large trolleys (called Yorks) of mail and/or packets from the loading bay at one end of the Centre to the relevant area ready for sorting. The Mail Centres main floor was, we were informed, was about the size of 6 football pitches. Once the incoming articles were in the correct areas they could be sorted either by hand or machine, sometimes both. The area I was assigned o was called ‘DSA’, which stood for Direct Access. This is prepaid corporate mail which can be sorted be machine. Think of it as things such as bank statements, utility bills and junk mail. There were three distinct roles here, which were ‘Tipping’, ‘Filling’ and ‘Unloading’.

Tipping is the process of removing a mail bag from a York, cutting it open and tipping its contents onto a conveyor. Once the mail reaches the top of the conveyor, the ‘Filler’ sorts the letters so they are all the same way round and puts them in a plastic crate. Once the crate is full it is pushed off the rack onto a sloping row of rollers. Gravity (sometimes) allows the crate to travel down the slope ready for the next exciting stage. The ‘Unloader’ will now remove the full crate from the rollers and put it in another York, which is then taken (by someone else or electric tuck) to a sorting machine at the other end of the centre.

From late November until just after Christmas I did a combination of those of roles from 6am to 2pm 5 days a week. It was physically hard work, but required virtually no mental dexterity what so ever. Therefore, at 5:58am I would put my brain in a draw and retrieve it again at about 1:45pm, in time for the ‘I want to sign out, but can’t remember my name’ ritual.

During my time at the Gatwick Mail Centre I made a few friends, one of whom I now keep in touch with via Facebook and where I can I try to put him in touch with potential employers. He has since found himself a good regular job. I also was put my name down for more work after Christmas.

In mid January I had a call from the Crawley Delivery Office manager, “Would I be interested in door to door mail delivery?”. Hell yeah and the following week I was a Casual Postman pounding the streets of the town, stuffing mail though peoples letter boxes. In my first week I wore out two pairs of boots (not new), cut my hand 3 times, tripping over a step impaling myself on a gate and got attacked by the same dog twice. To be honest I nearly gave up before the end of that first week, but I’m a stubborn idiot who doesn’t know when to throw in the towel. Therefore I stuck with it, made some new friends, walked approximately 10 miles a day, learnt how to outsmart dogs, befriended numerous cats and destroyed another 3 pairs of boots.

Postman Humour - I can't find my van. Have you seen it? It's a red one!

Postman Chris stops for Brunch

   
I quite enjoyed the daily routine. Up at 7am, walk to work for 8:30am, prepare the mail (parcels, redirections and bundle up), out the door with a regular Postman/women by 9:30am, deliver mail and finish at round 2pm. Then it’s a short hobble home to crash out on the sofa, with a cup of tea and the cat and fall asleep in front of the TV. I did this 6 days a week, right up until 28^th April.

This much mail takes 2 Postman 4 hours to deliver

   

Too much mail for one van - This was in Ifield, Crawley

The work was great, easy and I got to meet lots of people. I was fitter than I have been since I was in my 20’s and I lost 2 stone. However, I would probably have terrible arthritis in my legs within 5 years. I now have a massive respect for postman and I still wave to them in the street as I know most of them. It would also appear that I did the job very well as they really didn’t want me to leave and have told me that I can go back anytime I like. 

Postman Chris has just finished his last delivery and is about to sign off

The reason I left was because I have now returned to the Railway industry. 

I will always remember my time as a Postman with fond memories. It’s not a job for the faint hearted, but they’re an amazing bunch and it certainly is a lot of fun.

Always Remember - Be nice to your postman, they know where you live 8-)   
   


Regards



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