Right after college I moved to St. Petersburg, Florida.
I was broke by the time I got there and got set up. I had spent all my savings on an apartment and utilities and phone and just enough food to last me a month. I finally found a job in the mall, leasing cars from a kiosk. The company was named “Lease Car.” I had two skirts and two blouses and one pair of shoes to my name. I had to wash my clothes in the sink at my apartment and hang them across the shower door to dry so I would have something to wear the next day. I owned one spoon and one can opener. I only ate canned soup.
Since I didn’t have a pan, I would heat the soup still in the can directly over the gas flame of the stove. (Warning: take the paper off the can before putting over flame.) I’m telling you all this so you understand how very poor I was. Money was a very big deal.
I was overjoyed at my first paycheck. I could pay rent and buy food! (And maybe even buy a pan.) I got in my car and went to run errands: mailing a letter to my girlfriend back home and depositing my paycheck at the bank. I stopped first at a mailbox that was on the street. I threw the letter into the slot. I got back in the car and… Oh hell, no! I had dropped my paycheck and deposit slip in the mailbox!
I immediately went to the nearest post office and told the clerk all about it. I even talked to the postmaster. They told me they couldn’t do a thing about it. The mail from that box would be collected later that day and if somebody saw it, they would contact me. However, the postmaster told me, it was very likely I wouldn’t get the check back.
I called the home office of Lease Car, hoping to get the check replaced. But guess what? Lease Car was out of business. That very day they decided to go out of business! Now I had no money for the month I had worked and I had no job. My rent was due in a couple of days and I had only one can of soup left in the cupboard. I was hungry.
I went back to my apartment and cried.
The next afternoon I went to my mailbox and retrieved my mail. There was a note in my box. It read:
“I am your mailman. I found your paycheck with a deposit slip in the mailbox on Fourth St. I took it to the bank for you. Here is your deposit slip. Have a nice day.”
I cried again. This time from relief. And for the random act of kindness from the mailman that changed my life.
P.S. I paid my rent, and bought a pan!
Check out our review for Crazy Little Thing in Curve Magazine!