Life in Italy - #LifeHacking the Post Office

Anyone who comes to Italy for even about 36 hours finds out sooner, rather than later, about the notorious Post Office. Their misdeeds are the stuff of legend. Day in, day out when coming across Facebook posts of new arrivals unloading about the umpteenth miscarriage of mail justice that has befallen them, I sort of smirk to myself, smug in my knowledge that while it's cathartic to vent, they ain't seen nuthin' yet.
The Italian Post Office is a singular institution hellbent on making lives miserable. So much so, that I dedicate an entire chapter in my book to it: The Postman Never Rings Even Once. But I truly believe that desperation breeds innovation and it's why we now have email. 
And this is 2016. The Poste Italiane has been growing by leaps and bounds in efficiency, branding, banking, heck even free wifi - better to allow you to bide your time while dozens of octogenarians cash their pensions and then stand in front of the clerk for those 98 additional seconds to tuck away in a safe place their cash, or while people fill out the form - three of them - whilst standing at the counter, because to put them out would incite inmates, errr, clients to take and waste untold stacks of them. Things have changed so much that they're even charging us about 6 times other countries just for the luxury (and it is a luxury brand in my book) of mailing your letter.
But recently, like many of my compatriots, I had to submit my declaration that I do not, indeed, own a television. I went to the post office for the express purpose of mailing the registered letter. Let me just say that the clerk was super nice [another humongous improvement on the days in which she would have instead refused a letter because the address was written in green pen, or you stapled rather than slathered mucky goo all over the envelope to close it, or that your stamps were crooked, or that you wrote too many lines on a postcard, or you wrote below the line clearly demarcated on the postcard, or you requested far too many stamps, or the box was too big, or too small, or there was a slight bulge in the envelope, or that you wrote a note on the envelope, or you wrote England instead of Gran Bretagna...] I could go on. And on. And on. This is no exaggeration.
And so I was quite taken aback when she told me that I couldn't send my letter that way - meaning, in an envelope. I was quite used to the practice that if you sent a letter in an unsealed envelope, it cost less. So we all used to do that. But..no envelope? This was not in my personal annals of inane postal practices. And then...she did this: Risking her electric blue manicure, she set out to carefully craft an envelope out of my letter, employing scotch tape, stamps & staples. It was an engineering marvel. Standing there, it was as if witnessing a surgeon put one final stitch into a dying patient, or Betsy Ross sewing that last star on the flag...It was pure poetry in motion (and I'm sorry, but my surreptitious video does not do it justice...Did I mention it? No cellphones allowed at the counter? You can imagine where they draw the line on actually videotaping employees.)
Italy often has a lot of wild workarounds for what in other places would be straightforward, standard practice. Like the traffic lights all flashing yellow at midnight (click here for Midnight Run post), to keep people from running red ones. Or, side streets  alongside major thoroughfares which I am quite convinced are so guys can pick up prostitutes with ease - without causing traffic jams (anyone riding up the Via Salaria will know what I mean). Recently, our Prime Minister decided that since so many people pat ignored the heinous TV Tax, he would simply tack it onto our electric bills. I don't own a TV and if you want to get my taxation without representation vibe going, this is a fairly good place to start. Thus my registered letter. 
Flummoxed, I had to ask the clerk, just what this was all about. And with a straight face she stated that otherwise, people would pay for and send the registered envelope, empty. Basically, it was nipping a he said / she said accusation assault in the bud. They'd have proof of having delivered a declaration, when in reality, nothing was truly signed and sealed. By forcing you to provide the contents via a document-cum-envelope, well, then it had to be legit. I thought it was so you wouldn't send anthrax or bullets to our friends at the tax office for this highway robbery of a TV Tax - I'm sure they get plenty.
As someone who once paid a car accident of $103 in pennies (which is also illegal, btw), I had to admit, this was one genius move on the part of government. Now, about those Panama Papers??!

glide your cursor on colored parts above for more!

Alitalia Takes a Nose Dive

I have started commenting on Current Events in Italy over at my new blog, Irreverent Italy.  I'll be keeping this one going too, for more of my classic cross-cultural commentary, but thought you all might want to go there - it's still a work in progress, but hey...

Here is the first part of the Alitalia / Italian Post Office deal.  In my book, I dedicate ample copy to both poxes on the House of Italy.  But, putting them together?  This is a satirist's dream come true...

Okay-you know things are bad with your Company when the last resort to bail you out is a company so broke it has stopped mail delivery -- and it's the one who is supposed to be delivering the mail.  This is like Detroit trying to get bailed out by Lehman Bros.  I don't know where to start with this incredible story of how - gasp! - horrors! - The Italian Post Office is going to save Alitalia, so I'll start at the end:  Let it fail.  It's not like we'll all suddenly be stranded on our little peninsula - it's a peninsula, after all, and we could always train it out if worse came to worst.  There are plenty of airlines who would gladly pay for the slots, they just don't want to buy the Company those slots come with.

Picture by Gianni Falcone - Diario Acido

Again, in my book, I declare:  We've lost TWA to the junk heap of history, we stared up aghast when the last 'M' came off the Pan Am Building in New York City (I was there), we saw Sabina take its last lap, the Concord moved to a museum, and SwissAir fall from its lofty position (okay, it was reborn the very next day as Swiss, but still...)

Read More at Irreverent Italy:  http://irreverentitaly.blogspot.it/2013/10/ahhhhalitalia-takes-nose-dive.html

Life in Italy Top 10 Reasons You've Not Got Mail

Anyone who lives in Italy knows that the Italian Post Office in all its forms (from mail clerks to carriers to delivery to home banking) is the bane of one's existence.  Simply put, it's the flip side of the frittata to stunning scenery, passionate people, magnificent monuments, unbelievable food, events, culture and more.   I'm amused daily by tweets and facebook postings on people's Italy post office blues.  I often repost them in the right hand column of my blog, under Overheard or on my own fb page, but I dedicated an entire chapter in my book entitled, The postman never rings even once.
After the mail carriers (supposedly) shipped back 100 copies of my book rather than bring them to my doorstep -- I have bets placed that I will never live to see their shiny Burnt by the Tuscan Sun covers -- and yesterday's defeat at the hands of the despotic desk clerks, I have decided to share with you my very own David Letterman moment:  The Top 10 Reasons Why We Refuse to Take Your Mail.  But, unlike Letterman, each and every one is an actual response I've received from the people who I am by now quite certain live out their measly existence by wielding power in their pat refusals to provide you, the person keeping them gainfully employed, with this most basic service.  Giving you stamps.

The Top 10 Reasons Why the Italian Post Office Clerks Refuse to Take Your Mail

10.  You've written the address in green pen  [note:  the same applies to red pen as well]

9.    Your envelope has been stapled [and the metal staples might cause harm to our carriers]

8.    It's ten minutes prior to our ten minutes before closing time and we won't take any more transactions [ignoring the fact that you've been inside the place for over an hour]

7.    We have a new order that only 5 transactions are allowed at a time.  You have seven envelopes requiring postage.  I will give you postage for those five, but you'll have to take another number and wait to do the next ones

6.   The USA has stopped accepting packages

5.  Waiting for my number to be called so I could post three letters, I found out they had closed down the letters & packages window altogether to provide for more windows to the hundreds waiting for their financial transactions (avg transaction time:  12 minutes per customer).  I can't reopen the window - it's the system that closed it down - you'll just have to wait til all others before you are helped [note: term used quite loosely]

4.   I can't weigh the letters at this window to determine the postage - you need to go to the window across the way and get them weighed [implying taking a new number and waiting hours in line] / [postscript to this entry: I did just that, the co-worker penciled in  the postage amounts, to wit the clerk then said How do I know that you didn't just write them in yourself and they, indeed correspond to the correct postage?

3.   You wrote 'UK' for United Kingdom on the envelope, and it should be Gran Bretagna (Great Britain) 

2.   [No explanation] They just left you standing there and went on their coffee break

1.  We have no stamps here [this excuse comes in many other forms from 'we don't have the right denominations', 'you want too many stamps', the meter is down, the meter can't post to the USA, the list is endless]

For anyone attempting to apply logic as in...Why don't they just give us postage stamp machines?  The reasons are two-fold:  

a) It would imply someone filling them up with envelopes, money and postage labels to keep them running, which, after day 3 would no longer be in service and 

b) in a country in which the second favorite national pastime is beating the system, they would need someone to check that the postage on the package was accurate, as everyone would simply weigh out boxes empty, get the stamps, and then and only then fill up their boxes with leaden materials and pop them in the mail.  

Advertising Age - Banking Edition

Italians since ancient times have always paid close attention to the care of their bodies - after all, it's the Romans that made virtual palaces of their 'bath houses' replete with all the rituals that made you come out smelling - if not like a rose - at least olive oil & laurel.
So bankers, in their multi-century glut of good advertising gimmicks, have decided to appeal to the beautiful people of the Bel Paese.  Credem's ad agency, Republic, who actually admits to having created this pathetic campaign, has peppered Italy's train stations with profiles like hers in a sorry attempt at witticism.  It reads, "My nose knows it's the bank for me."  With the check-up line posted above, I was actually tempted to call the number to see where I could get a nose job and free checkup ('zero spese') along with it.   

Advertising Age:  about a 6 yr. old attempt

Not to be outdone, the Poste Italiane, that beacon of brilliance, has come out with a whole line of (financial) products to entice you to live a beautiful and harmonious life.  Their image?  A line of beauty care creams.  Seeing that at the Post Office you can buy recipe books, pots & pans, and every other service (except actual stamps) known to man, I simply thought they were coming out with their own anti-aging creams - to ward off the effects of time you spend in line there.    
Advertising Age:  23 yrs old / Effectiveness: 0


And, speaking of the Italian Postal Service, here's a little trick to avoid it altogether:  
In Rome, I have discovered right near the Colosseum (on via S. Giovanni in Laterano) a Swiss Post Office.  Years ago, those savvy Swiss spotted a nice opportunity, and opened their first office in Milano (on viale Jenner) as well.  Take your letters & packages there - you'll pay less and you can rest assured your package will arrive.
[click on Swiss Post for link to their facilities].

Italy's Economy: Business Weak

Well, as the economy takes its toll on first Greece, then maybe Spain, and really all of Europe, we settle into a general State of Denial in preparation for the World Cup.  The players, making a zillion times the average Giovanni's salary, we cheer on while our own sort seems played out by the number of kicks an average soccer ball takes in a game.  And so, as we're told to tighten our belts, as even politicians take a pay cut (don't worry, they will more than make up for it in handouts, free apartments, cash payments in small envelopes, and the 'privatization' by buddies of the most essential services - like water), some habits just seem to die really hard:  Like raising prices in a recessionary economy.


So, here are a few doozies of the week - a short list of those brainy ideas to keep business in Italy weak:

My favorite group on earth, the Taxi Drivers are upset.  They're upset because they have to charge a fixed rate into Rome (40 euro). They're upset that the guys from Fiumicino city get to charge more (€60 - presumably because they can't pick up clients in Rome). They're upset that they keep getting fined for transgressions, like running the meter on the teenie no. 2 when it's supposed to be on the teenie no. 1 (you can email me for an explanation of what that's supposed to mean).
Their solution?  Raise the fee a good 25% to a nice even €50 for all.  Italians love round numbers - just look what happened to your morning caffè after the introduction of the euro.
My solution? Send 'em all to a basic economics course about supply & demand.

Another austerity solution being bantered about is, in an effort to reduce tax evasion, to reduce cash payments.  I'm not sure if this will apply to under-the-table payments or payments to your transvestite hooker or not, nor how they'd control this, but, it's a fascinating start.
Fascinating because, as a foreign credit card-wielding consumer, I am unable to make any online purchases...say, for telephone calls, train tickets, and assorted  sundry items.  This, for 'security' reasons.
As a result? I am pushed into the netherworld of 'cash only' transactions, just like an Al Qaeda wannabe...Next thing you know, I'll be picked up by Interpol when purchasing fertilizer for my plants.  
Like the taxis before them, the Feds can't figure out the most simple rule of espionage:  get a paper trail.  All I know is that I can't wait til the law takes effect.

And, while we're on the subject of cash payments, my house guests recently asked me how much it cost to send a postcard to the USA.  I have no idea, but I think it is the same amount as a letter (6o cents).  And then, my thoughts turned to those heady, anarchic days of the Italian postal service:
When, you could send a postcard for cheap, provided that you only signed your (totally illegible) name.
When, whistfully adding a 'Rome is nice - wish you were here', that was considered a letter - and it cost more to mail.
When I finally had learnt this simple formula, it was like discovering the Holy Grail.  It explained the ridiculously plain cards from friends & relatives in Italy over the years, and why, I'd always be charged a different stamp - sometimes with the clerk actually counting the words.  I now knew how Newton felt when he let that apple fall.

Nowadays, everything has been streamlined, so it's one fee, and not up to the clerk behind the 12 inch thick window whose lips are moving but no sound vibrations  emanate your way.
And, while I'm going postal, I'd like to lodge a formal complaint against Amazon.fr (France).  If you purchase a French book from the marketplace, the price indicated is 2.99 postage&handling.  By the time you check out, they've added 3 euro to your till.
Even though it costs the same now to ship to Italy as in France, they charge you as if you lived in a tree house in the heart of New Guinea.  I received a book with 1.35 euro postage.  I was charged 5.99 for the courtesy.  And they want me to 'rate this vendor'? Really?

It's not Caveat Emptor.  My new motto in an internet age:  Caveat Venditor.

Francesca Maggi's...Strange But True!

Considering that you can't even get a telephone line hookup in Italy in under two months, Berlusconi's affirmation that Aquila will be rebuilt in time for the G8 session in July borders on hallucinogenic. Problem is, it will probably happen, and he will achieve his dream of covering once-picturesque Aquila in swathes of cement [I reference the urban sprawl that is Perugia nowadays]. This is only one of the more strange occurrences this month.

The City of Rome was plastered recently with posters showing the number of trees here, there and everywhere that had been pruned by the paid assassins working under cover at the Servizi Giardini. I thought this was a good thing (they numbered in the thousands), until friends pointed out, "What capital city boasts that they've pruned trees for the first time in 10 - 12 & 18 years?". Point well-taken.

And then there's the incredible situation at my favorite, the Poste Italiane. All of these state-run monopolies, were started to be, uhhhh, exactly that: State-Run Monopolies. Turns out, Italy's State-run Antitrust Office has decided to file a ruling against its own kin, for Abuse of Power stemming from their lofty Monopoly position.
So much for sticking to your Mission Statement.

But, the prize goes to the Comune di Roma's AMA - garbage office. Navigating on their site recently, I was utterly dazed and amused to find their own special pages dedicated to Italian Cinema. Turns out the Refuse Folks also run the cemeteries. And now I see why Italy is so bad at recycling -- absolutely next to no one gets cremated here.... And the Cinema connection was a tour of the tombs of the leading lights in the Italian film industry.
Or is it a not-so-subtle hint that most of the movies made here are just pure trash??


Picture by Agoravox.it / Their terrific posting on the trees here.

Francesca Maggi's...Strange But True!

It's not only the markets that are behaving erratically...it seems everyone is losin' it these days...

- In an unprecedented display of pent up hostility, a man hopped over the counter and started pummeling a Post Office clerk.

I say it was probably for refusing to sell stamps or take a letter because the address wasn't written in black ink. And, his frustration was probably at the hands of the same teller who attempted to refuse my letter because I wrote UK instead of Gran Bretagna.
So now we know the real reason behind those thick glass windows...it's not for the oodles of money they handle on a daily basis, it's to prevent incidents like this one from occurring. Or, as a clerk smugly responded when I said I could not hear her through the glass, "That's what it's for".

- And, speaking of being pummelled, a High School Prof of fine arts was socked in the face by an irate student. After 32 years of service, he has decided to quit his job.
Now I'm not one to incite violence, but...have we perhaps finally discovered one way to get these guys to relinquish their positions so that younger people can finally step in and make their way up the ladder?

- They instituted at the Office of the President of the Republic, turnstiles to track employees' comings and goings in an effort to reduce absenteeism. Already, absenteeism had gone way down.
But one guy who had gone hunting with a friend (not Dick Cheney) during office hours and was shot in the leg, later claimed it had happened while at work and tried to claim workman's comp among other things.
Thankfully, they have since proved him wrong and are throwing the book at him. He may -- I stress may -- even lose his job.

- A woman who nearly missed ending up paralyzed by work from a fraudulent dentist went and filed a complaint with the 'authorities'. Their esteemed response? 'Take your case to the satirical comic show, Striscia la Notizie (a sort of SNL of Italy) and you might get faster and better results.' Well, that's what she did.

- And finally, in the ultimate test of sheer chutzpah, two on-duty taxi drivers were caught on film jumping out of their cabs just in time to steal two vespas and hide them, before going back on duty...They too, will most likely get to keep their jobs...

Italy -vs - Spain Tourism made easy

Ever have one of those days? Departing for Barcelona, suddenly I was thrust into a little microcosm of petty inconveniences which, when they hit you on a one shot basis, bug you a little bit, but quickly go (almost) unnoticed. But when they come so fast and furious, you start to feel like the poor protagonist from that terrific cult movie --except in my case it all occurred in about 1/8th of the time.

The day started out innocently enough, with the usual walk around the block dodging the landmines left across my path by deficient dog owners…and over to my lovely garage guy who brings me my morning paper. Off to the Post Office (which I fondly refer to as my reading room) to pay a bill, I mistakenly handed her two of the same bill. Not noticing that the amount was identical, I was then berated for my inattentiveness and forced to endure signing my first, third and seventh born sons over to Poste Italiane in order to rectify the matter.

Then, it was off to the airport via bus to the train station. After waiting the cursory 30 minutes for a 6 min ride belly button to belly button with people I’d rather not be in such a predicament (and, I’m sure they with me), I asked someone to please step aside so I can retrieve my suitcase. Naturally, she refused to budge. Jumping out of the bus just before the doors closed on me, I trudged past the throngs of homeless camping out at Stazione Ostiense.

At the station, I decided not to use the trusty ticket machines seeing there was no wait in line. Having packed my purse in the suitcase lest the homeless station greeters or the wandering gypsies get the better of it, I was armed with a 20. The ticket was 11 euro -- and naturally, I had to undergo a dressing down by the ticket man for not having any change to give him. I remarked that filling his change drawer was not, in fact, the passengers’ responsibility -- to no avail -- and I promised myself I would never use a ticket window again as long as I walk the earth.

Of course, both escalators were out of service, but I knew I had to endure lugging my bag up the steps to the only platform without an elevator. From there, it was onto the train devised precisely to not allow anyone with a bag larger than a wallet. Perfectly on time, we ended up accumulating an 11 min. delay in the 3 mins. it took to Stazione Trastevere.

At the airport, check in on Spain’s ClickAir went flawlessly. Finding no outlets for my mac, I happily plugged in at a closed Gate counter. When a nearby gate opened up, I was accosted by the Flight Attendant guy: “You can’t do that!!! It is outlawed and against all rules!! Who let you do that?” I coyly responded that if he could kindly show me an outlet in the entire International Terminal, I’d gladly go someplace else to hook up.

“Do you have permission?” he countered. Naturally, I did what people do best, I lied. Magnificently. “Well then, it’s okay.” (so much for rules and regulations, however one of the highlights of living in Italy, I must add). At which point, he proceeded to compliment me on my clothes, my look, and ask the backhanded mother of all queries, "Why’d you come to Italy? Your husband?” Hoping to find I was single. Needless to say, I lied again.

Scheduled for Gate B8, we suddenly heard an ominous loudspeaker announcement alerting us that many flights would be canceled or delayed due to a sudden Air Transport strike. No sooner had I heard the broadcast than I looked up and my flight disappeared off my gate’s screen and every screen back to the departures lounge.
There, we were assured that there was a simple gate change – of course, unannounced.

Racing to the gate with a Catalan woman, she was practically crying, “I just want to go home.”

Francesca Maggi's...Strange But True!

Now that my free newspapers are back publishing, it looks as though September really started out with a bang. And with it, some wonderfully surprising things have taken place.

First off, the Mail Carriers actually went on strike to oppose the mandate for nearly non-delivery of August mail. This outcry was picked up by the Consumers Associations who complained that it left the poor elderly folks stuck at home without pension checks and without their weekly crossword puzzles, not to mention without their kids to help out -- all on vacation.

It seems that the Poste Italiane has taken the McKinsey assessment literally: That they shouldn’t be in the mail delivery business. Problem is, the privatization won’t occur until 2011. Until then, expect empty mailboxes.

Rome’s Demolition Mayor is finally able to get something dismantled. Only this time, everyone is applauding. Under the last administration, plans were made to build a 700 car parking lot in one of the most beautiful outlooks over Rome: the Pincio Hill in Villa Borghese, just above the Piazza del Popolo; ruining the panorama for millions of tourists and also the beauty of the park. Never mind that there was no feeder road into the garage for all those cars they expected.
It was as if they had picked the best spot on earth and said, yeah, let’s ruin it. It was a disgrace and thankfully, under the guise of “precious ruins underneath” it ain’t gonna happen. In our euphoria, we’ll also ignore the fact that the mega parking lot just across the river (which the Vatican had plowed through ancient villas) stands virtually empty.

And irony of ironies, Minister Carfagna (ex-topless model who sold her body to calendars and magazines alike) has taken her title as Minister of Equal Opportunities to heart and presented legislation that will arrest the johns along with the hookers.

It will get the women off the streets, but will it really dent the demand?

The Postman Never Rings Once

Anyone who doubts that the Italians aren’t organizationally challenged, has never had to look for an address in the City Centre. And while having both odd and even numbers on the same side of the street, and following no cardinal order, has its charms, sometimes, if you’re in a hurry, it can get downright maddening.

Ask any Italian, and you’ll discover that the reasons for this peeve are twofold, both of which are part & parcel of the entire makeup of Italian society:

1) Nostalgia – those buildings have been around since the Renaissance and so have their original numbers cast in stone. Any new additions, buildings being divided into more apartments, etc., have to fit into the original scheme. God forbid those stones are removed! And so, later buildings naturally sport later numbers, no matter where they appear on the block.

2) Bureaucracy – Renumbering the system would probably create a backlog of bureaucracy so great, it would make taking a census in India pale by comparison.

I recently sold a house in Abruzzo where things had been (smartly, or so I thought) renumbered.

- Turns out, my great aunt said she lived at no. 10, the number on the building.

- The City documents had it changed to number 18 sometime in the past (but our number in stone stayed put).

- Roaming up the street, I noticed that we were, following logically, actually no. 19 but there was already one of those, meaning the entire block from that point on would have to change their numbers, too.

- At the notary’s office to officiate the sale, it turns out that the real number of the property was 35 & 37 as listed in the Regional office records (because of little tiny lots which made up the backyard). This came as a surprise to all concerned, including the City offices (who happen to house the local post office to boot).

This whole cunundrum almost cost me the sale—-after all, it looked like I was trying to dump a property I did not even own (a fairly common fraud here).

But it’s no wonder the Post Office is so inefficient. The mail carriers must simply give up or worse, have nervous breakdowns trying to sort it all out.

Francesca Maggi's...Strange But True!

GARBAGE - The Spillover
A guy in Naples (and he’s not the only one) just got his Garbage Tax bill. 257 euro ($400) for the year. Considering they haven’t picked up the garbage in over 8 months…But of course, if he doesn’t pay up, he'll be charged late fees and compounded interest.

So when will the residents get to levy late fees on the City Govt.??

And, to add insult to injury, this week the Garbage Collectors went on strike across the country.
I’m sure they’re not paid enough, so, I’ll let them have their way…but,talk about playing dirty...

The Riddle of the Mail Delivery
Like a bad Nancy Drew mystery, I could not figure out why all my mail would come on some days, and the box would remain empty on others. Turns out, they’ve reduced mail delivery! In Italy, the Postman only rings every other day.

When you stop and think how once the Sick Man of Europe, England, now delivers sometimes twice in a day, and a letter sent that morning will arrive in your box that afternoon…far from sick, the British Post Office is on Viagra.

EAT MCDONALDS & receive a ‘GET OUT OF JAIL FREE CARD’!!

A Big Mafioso weighing over 210 kilos (that’s over 460 lbs.), was sent home for house arrest because he was deemed ‘unfit’ for prison life. FAT CAT
So, instead of being forced to do jumping jacks out in the yard, he gets sent home for more delicious pasta alla norma?
Meanwhile, they neglected to notice that errr…he already did a pretty good job conducting his business from home while being immobile…
Coming right out of Central Casting for the Sopranos, no one caught the irony in the fact that he is the head of the ‘Lo Piccolo’ Clan.

You can’t make this stuff up.

My Funny Valentine

I received a wonderful singing Valentine - well, in the mail. It was from my mother, so I knew right away it was a Singing Valentine (I always get a Valentine’s from my mother…although at forty-something, I might add, instead of bringing cheer, it sometimes gets a bit depressing, but..that’s another story). As I pulled the red card out of the envelope, to my surprise, there was my Christmas card belting out an entire chorus of “We Wish you a Merry Christmas”!!

So, instead of kudos for having the foresight to send a Valentines Day Card ahead of time, I thought, well, “better late than never!”  But one look at the post mark, and, I knew the culprit was another: in fact, it had been posted from the USA on Dec 18th.

Now we all know that Italy’s Post Office horror stories could fill the Library of Congress. Everyone has one – well, make that a couple hundred. I’ve actually witnessed Brits try to organize mass protests to no avail, while the Italians stand idly by, shaking their heads in disgust at the Barbaric rise in decibel levels. We’ve heard all the stories: from the workers in Milan being filmed stuffing envelopes under extra-large sweatshirts to extract cheques and money orders later (they got to keep their jobs), to postcards delivered to relatives long since dead, to my personal favourite -- your ability to conduct pretty much every transaction on earth from buying a house to tickets to a Rock Concert to long-distance adoption, except stamp purchases.

And so it was, I believe, McKinsey & Co. who won the coup of actually getting a contract to evaluate the abysmal Postal Services and then recommend changes to it. Millions of euros later, they came up with what any of us waiting in the infernal lines while dozens of workers behind the windows stand around chatting would have offered free of charge: the Post Office did everything well and profitably… except deliver mail. McKinsey went on to say that perhaps they should reconsider staying in their ‘core business’.

Considering that a letter from Rome to Milan or Naples to Turin arrived faster by donkey courier in medieval times than it does today, I say, just as we are looking fondly on as Big Cities adopt man-powered rickshaws, maybe we should be looking at Donkeys as the mode of travel for letter delivery in the 21st century.

We would just have to make sure that they aren’t fitted with large sweatshirts bearing the Poste Italiane logo whilst on duty.


A few commonly shared stories have appeared from time to time on The American Magazine. Just click to read n’ weep:

www.theamericanmag.com/article

www.theamericanmag.com/article

And, drop me a line in the Comments -- I'd love to hear yours!

Day Off

A friend of mine who is currently in between jobs has been calling me regularly with updates from the field (although I must admit, the same thing happens to all the husbands left behind to fend for themselves in the city every August). Ever since he arrived in Italy, he had a pretty good job with a personal assistant. Turns out that that assistant did everything for him, so he wouldn’t have to deal with it himself. Now, he’s been seeing for the first time, what many of us (especially women, even working women) have known all along:

- did you know that you can’t get anything done at lunchtime? All the stores are closed.

Yes, except in the city centre, and although I find it an endearing (and an unfortunately changing) part of the Mediterranean lifestyle, it does, in fact, beg the question: If all the retailers take Mondays off only, when do they get their errands done?? I have often wondered this and still do.

- did you know that you can’t buy stamps at the Post Office? But, you can pretty much pay all your bills, go Christmas shopping, open a mortgage, invest in mutual funds and buy tickets to a show?

Yes, and, when you do a Christmas mailing you have to actually go to a dozen different tobacco shops to buy them, because each one will only sell you a few of their stash in order to ‘save’ them for other clients who may ask for them (see excellent link to 'The American' magazine on the sidebar for a story that all of us have experienced).

- did you ever notice how many grandpas are in the parks pushing little babies around in strollers?

Yes, and, while it makes it easier on the family, all psychological results are in—with the verdict that the absolute worst place for little babies is with their grandparents (on a day in, day out basis). They just don’t have the energy to interact & deal with them. Lord knows I can handle my nephews for a max of 72 hrs. at which point I have been known to hang white sheets out the window, with the words AIUTO scrawled across them.

Another friend noticed that her baby was up all night on the days she left her with the in-laws. Turns out, they’d close her in a room shutting off all the lights and then declare, “She’s over-tired. She sleeps all the time”. To wit she would respond, ‘if you closed anyone in a room and turned out the lights, they’d fall asleep too!’