Lunch hour at the Post Office

Earlier this week I went to the Post Office to mail a package.

I was next in line when the male mail clerk turned to the female mail clerk, and told her he didn't feel good.  He had been waiting on one customer for about ten minutes.  Perhaps he was processing a passport, whatever it was, there was a lot of paperwork in front of him.  Just before I was called to the next window, the male clerk pursed his lips, exhaled, his eyes rolled back, and he fell over backwards to the floor, pushing his chair into a metal rack behind him.  I called 911.  The customer waiting behind me leaped to an access gate, found it locked, then jumped over the gate and started to attend to the fallen clerk.  Turns out, that agile customer was an off duty fireman.

Postal employees started coming out from the back room and huddled around him, as they sat him up, he regained consciousness.  After I told 911 what was happening, where I was, my name and telephone number, I started to give them a blow by blow description of what I was observing.  Yes he was speaking, no he's not standing, and here comes a  postal clerk putting on surgical gloves as if she knows what to do.  It was almost like the radio guy who was trying to describe what was happening in front of him as the Hindenburg came down in Lakehurst, NJ.  

911 told me to tell his caregivers that an ambulance was on the way.  I did, but that was right about the time when the clerk was saying that he didn't want an ambulance.  I told that to the 911 operator.

911 told me that the ambulance was on the way, and he could refuse treatment if he wanted to when the help arrived.  The clerks eyes rolled back in his head again, his mouth agape, he had passed out again.  He looked terrible, very pale.  911 told me that help would be there momentarily.  I had done what I could.  

I went to the next open window, envelope in hand, and said, "first class", to the frazzled female mail clerk.  She replied, "he needs to get checked out!"  "He can't keep passing out like that."  I thought, Huh??  I glanced back, and the fallen clerk was again awake and talking to his caregivers.  She said, "Two dollars and forty one cents......out of ten".  "Yeah", I told her, "have a good rest of your day."  She pursed her lips, exhaled and called, "May I help who's next in line, please?" 

It was then that I heard the wail of an ambulance siren.  I met the ambulance crew at the door, and told them where to go.  I wonder now how he's doing?  With HIPPA laws as they are, I might not ever find out.  (purses lips and exhales)   

The bottom of my post office receipt says;
"Help us to Serve you better", "Tell us about your recent postal experience."  Your opinion counts! 

I think I'll pass on the survey.