Port Orange Jock

One upstate New York man's successful journey through life doing the only jobs he ever loved. Being a Radio personality,(with one long side trip through the Postal Service).

Location: Port Orange, Florida, United States

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

I arrived in Daytona Beach in March of 1985. I knew this would be a new start in a part of the country that I had never lived in before; and to tell the truth I was very nervous. My Mother said I could stay with her until Cathy and the kids arrived from Victor. I had rented an old clunker to get me around town. At the Post Office I had to start learning the scheme. There were 42 routes and I had to memorize the streets on all of them within a certain period of time. I wasn't worried because I knew Cathy had already found a buyer for the house and the family would be arriving in about two weeks. I had already found a house to rent. She and I had always done everything important together, so I really couldn't get into learning that scheme until she arrived. We simply had to do it together. Turned out however, at the eleventh hour, the bank must have found out something real bad about the buyer, because they nixed the sale. That set our timetable back another three months. Meanwhile, things for me couldn't have been worse. I tried learning the scheme on my own, but it was no soap. A while later the Postal Service sent me a Certified letter. They said I had 30 days in which to pass the scheme or I should pack my bags. Apparently they had waited this long only because I was in the Union and I was a Veteran. Fortunately, Cathy had another buyer in line and would drive down in about two weeks. This news couldn't have come at a better time. As soon as the family arrived, Cathy and I started working day and night on passing the scheme. I would get about 4 hours sleep a night. Every night I would go to work(my hours were midnight to 8:30 A.M.), and take the test first thing. This went on for weeks and I really thought I wouldn't make it. The gods must have been with me however, because I passed it with three days to spare. For the next five years I would enjoy the Florida sunshine, and the work I would do at the Volusia Avenue Facility. Everything was going great, even though it would be many years before I would hold a microphone again. Little did I know that upcoming changes in the Daytona Beach Postal Service would make things miserable for me for my last twelve years before retirement in June of 2002. End of Chapter 12.


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