The Mailbox Rebellion

I was picking up my mail at work the other day and I knocked off my name tag for my slot. 

Where I work, we have designated mail stops.  Each designated mail stop has a designated mail slot for each person in the designated areas.  Each slot has a designated magnetic name tag for each designated person at each designated mail stop.  Each designated magnetic name tag is on the right side of each designated mail slot, for each designated mail stop.

My mail stop is 235-02W-70.  It used to be 235-2W-70, but it got changed to 235-02W-70 for some reason we are not certain.  This mail stop means something - or rather - I know that parts of it mean something.  I work in building 235 (the first set of numbers).  My desk is on the second floor, on the west side (the second group of numbers).  I have no idea what the 70 stands for, and I am scared to ask, as I am sure there is some reason, most likely related to some geographic map coordinates that only a skilled cartographer could discern.

The company I work for claims innovation as its birthright, but apparently this does not apply to building names.  I used to work at Nike, and the buildings were named after famous athletes who had signed up with the company: Michael Jordan, Mia Hamm, Nolan Ryan, etc.  Each building would have a theme for its conference rooms.  The building I worked in had all its conference rooms named after famous mountains - Everest, Denali, Kilimanjaro, etc.  Unlike Nike, the conference rooms are also similarly bland, named after a convention based on geography and an alpha-numeric system.  My closest conference room is 235-2W-B220, which means, building 235, 2nd floor west side, corridor B, room 220.  The letter coordinates run from West to East (in this building); the number of rooms runs from low to high in a North to South direction.  I am not making this up.

So last Friday as I was leaving work, I knocked off my designated name tag while I was retrieving my copy of the "Poultry Times", the bi-weekly publication I got a free subscription to when I was attending the International Poultry Convention and Expo back in '06.  Instinctively, I started putting the name tag back on the right side, but then I stopped. 

Why - why does it need to be on the right side?  Every name tag lined up so nice and neatly on the right side of each slot.  Would it matter if mine was on the left side?  Would this disrupt the mail service?  Would I cause some great calamity by moving it, or would I be branded as some sort of free thinking radical by having a left-sided name tag?  The jack-@ss in me had to find out.  I became a left sider.  

I figured one of three things would happen:

1. The man would try to slap me down and someone would move my name tag back to the right side.

2. Others would join my rebellious cause and start to move their name tags to the left side - or to the center - or flip them upside down.  Freedom of expression would come to the mail room and others would join my quest!

3.  Nobody would care.

The experiment was on:

Day 1:  I come into work late again Monday morning, walking past my designated mail stop on the way in.  I momentarily forgot about my Friday rebellion, and I almost moved my mis-placed name tag when I saw it not fitting in with the team. But I reminded myself - I'm a rebel now.  I play by my own rules!  The name tag stayed on the left side.

Day 2:  I come in today very cocksure of myself, expecting the man to have moved my name tag back to the right side.  But I was wrong.  No change.  It sat on the left side unchanged.  No one had taken up my cause either.  Be patient - rebellions take time.  Someone will notice my act of defiance and join me.

Day 3:  My tag had not been changed by the man, and still no one had taken up my cause.  I also noticed that I didn't have any mail.   Neither did anyone else, really.  Outside of the Poultry Times and paychecks (which are only once a month), I don't think I get any mail of any significance.  I don't think anyone else does, either.  I am starting to think this may have been a bad setting for a revolution.

Day 4:  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  I twist my magnetic tag, so that part of it is hanging off the slot.  Certainly something like will draw attention to my cause and cause others to wake up to my revolution.  Sadly, this is not the spark I was hoping for.  Someone straightened our my tag for me (this is Minnesota and folks are very nice) but left it on the right side.  Also, the mail carrier brought my copy of this months "Welding Journal".

Day 5:  Last chance for revolt.  It is end of the month - Paycheck day.  This is the one time a month where everyone stops by their mail slot; this has got to be the day the revolution would take hold!  Or so I thought.  Small fun fact I learned - out of all the people in my division, I am the only person who still gets an actual pay check; everyone else is on direct deposit so all they get is a statement.  

The revolution's first week was over, and our best chance for upheaval has failed.  I am now faced with the difficult choice - conformity to the masses, or continue my valiant, but unpopular struggle.  As I was about to leave for the week, I stared at the wall of mail slots, all right sided (sans mine).  I stared at the wall of slots, and noticed how aesthetically unpleasing mine was, compared to the others.  I thought back to the great revolutions of the past century.  They were brutal, ugly, painful events which required sacrifice.  Was I up to the challenge?  Or would I collapse to the powers of conformity.

I straightened up my back, reached in my slot, grabbed my paycheck and my flyer for the upcoming mold and asbestos conference.  I left my tag on the left side.

Power to people.