Snail Mail Delivery

Our landlord, love her, decided to install a mail slot in the front door of our building instead of allowing the postman access to our mailboxes. One likely reason, apparently a good reason, is to prevent incoming thieves from entering the building during postal delivery. Another theory is that keys were lost, and once lost, the key for a postbox cannot be replaced. There doesn't seem to be a master. Whatever the ambiguous raison etre, the post is fitted through this horizontal aluminum fitted break in the bottom of main door, and sits on the carpet until someone picks it up and places it in a plastic container on a table under the mailboxes. This allows anyone to rifle through all mail. The landlord, attempts delivery when she is available. Door to door she goes, up and down the 3 flights of stairs on each side of the building (elevators don't exist here) slipping letters under doorways, when it fits, or leaving the mail in front of tenant doors, when mail cannot be shoved between door and carpet on the other side.

Anonymous posties undoubtedly make their judgements about recipients of certain mail. Having landlords and fellow apartment residents know your business is entirely disconcerting. Having Aunt Bea's stickers flash before 3A while searching for an important document is less worrisome than having neighbours spot a collection notice. However, seeing any type of mail that remarks somehow on your public image, whether positively or negatively is embarrassing and an invasion of privacy.

To date, no mail, I believe has been stolen by a resident. The residents of this building are a docile bunch. Content to remain in the same place for up to 22 years, they obviously don't want to become confrontational. They simply accept the new process for mail delivery without so much as a blink of disapproval. When I am at home at 11ish in the morning, the urge to fly down the three flights upon the sound of mail being shoved through the mail slot is tempting(yes, you can hear everything in this building), and sometimes, a neighbour will have beaten me to the pile. This shows me that although they won't openly complain, the idea of me or anyone else seeing a certain item would mortify them, and to avoid the passing of judgement on their insular world, they choose to sort the delivery before the prying eyes of others will witness a part of their lives they would rather have private. I am relieved to know that they have some sense of independence, that they value their privacy and are just as confused by the new system of mail delivery as I am.

When the landlord slips the letters under the door, she has witnessed every cheque, knows our habits via all bills, has a comprehensive notion of our passions through mailers and magazines delivered. She is a kind and unobtrusive soul, but there is obviously a need for voyeurism that remains in her method for mail delivery that can't be ignored. I have to passively accept this and hope that my race for the pile at the foot of main door can be reached when and if I need my mail to be self delivered. I am exhausted by this concern for privacy every day. I love email.