Jack I was a Letter Carrier. I took the Postal mechanics test and passed. When I went to the Postal garage for the hands-on test and I saw the dungeon they worked in, I bolted. It was dark, dank, dirty, no sunshine, and they had a single home stereo speaker hung up on a wall blasting incomprehensible noise. There was a bunch standing around the tools cage and the 'shop steward', said to me they had a great operation, but just don't talk to 'that guy'. The guy was standing in an empty tractor/trailer engine compartment up to his eyeballs in work. Being me, I went right over to 'that guy' and asked him what they meant. He said "I am the only $%#*&%$ guy that does any work around here!". That was enough for me. If the 'shop steward' was a rat, I would not last there. [Some years later, that 'steward' showed up at my office as a boss, and a lousy one at that.] I told the guy testing me that I changed my mind and declined the job. I went back to carrying, outdoors, in the sunlight and fresh air. And I continued to work on my own cars. [I even did some off-the-books repairs behind the local bar for hot rodding cash].
