You see, in 2004, I was a mailman. Officially my title was casual carrier, as I wasn’t part of the union, and thereby only allowed to serve for 6 months before taking time off to apply for full-time letter carrier status or doing whatever until my next 6 month tour came up. I was actually surprised at how much military-official lingo was used, especially when I had to take an oath to protect and defend the constitution of the United States of America. I had the average American perspective of mailmen, which was that they fill up their bags and trucks and go around all day and at the end they go home and play with guns and drink their brains out. Not entirely untrue in some cases, but not entirely accurate. Some of the nicest people I’ve known are from my days at the USPS: hard working, honest, nice people, real sweethearts. Some total assholes, but mostly really nice people. They’re government agents, albeit without any real authority, other than the authority to take your personal letters and packages and open your mailboxes and apartment buildings.
A casual carrier, in my time (it’s been five years, so I don’t know what’s changed), is paid less than a regular carrier (who can earn up to $75,000 if they’re there long enough), doesn’t have a set route, and doesn’t wear a uniform. The regulars have to pay for their uniforms, true, but they actually look like mailmen. I was shown a room with discarded uniform parts (hats, shirts, capes for when it rains and snows but you’ve got to get the mail through) and I took a few items, but for the most part I wore khakis and tee shirts and sweatshirts of my own. This may not seem to be important, but it is.
Depending on the route, I’d either leave the station walking, in an LLV (long-life vehicle, your typical mailman truck), a larger truck for pickups and deliveries (like when I’d go to Phish Dry Goods, if I may casually drop a name), or in a plain white van, where the only identifying marks were the US GOVERNMENT license plates. I had a funny incident once where I delivered a package to a house that housed some college students, and they thought I was the DEA or some other agency. I got out, heard toilets flushing, and when one of the guys came out and saw me handing over an Express Mail parcel he yelled “it’s the fucking mailman!” to his friends, who I’m sure wished they had waited just a bit longer before sending whatever wherever.
How does this relate to the story? Well, I once had to deliver to a government building in South Burlington that housed a division of Homeland Security. I rolled up to the guard gate with my white van and tee shirt and khakis, and there was no one there. I pressed a talk button, and a stammering voice asked “uh, can I help you?” It was Saturday, so it seemed no one official or important was there. I said I was going to drop off the mail and pick any up, and I hadn’t been there before, could I be directed to where I need to go? The voice told me where to go, the gate was raised so I drove into the parking lot, the side door was buzzed open, and before I knew it I was wandering around the offices. I found the mail dropoff point, left the white tub of mail, and as there was nothing to pick up, I simply left.
In summation: I showed up to a government office in an unmarked (except for the license plates) van, showed no identification, interacted with no one other than over an intercom, and was able to walk around their offices. I could have swiped a hard drive. I could have brought a bomb in under the pile of mail. I could have poisoned their coffee. I’m not a terrorist, so I didn’t, but still, I’d like to think that, after five years and billions of dollars, shit like that wasn’t still going on. But as the GAO showed, it does.
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