My dad was a career postal clerk, first in downtown Chicago and later at the city's Kedzie-Grace station, ZIP code 60618.
When I was very young I remember him getting up from a nap at 9:50 p.m. to prepare for the start of his midnight shift. He had a daytime side j*b as well, because Post Office pay was notoriously skimpy. I imagine that's when I had LBYM ingrained in me.
In the early '70s, Nixon had the Post Office reorganized into the USPS after a strike for higher pay and better working conditions. That's when Dad's annual wages surpassed the 5-figure mark for the first time, IIRC.
While going to college in a small Wisconsin town, Dad suggested I apply for a postal j*b. I was toiling at a foundry at the time, so the USPS sounded pretty sweet! Back then, workers started part-time as substitutes, which ended up pretty convenient for this college kid.
It turned out there was an opening for a substitute rural carrier in a nearby town. The j*b was for a full day every Saturday plus filling in when the regular carrier took his vacation weeks. He made a point of taking off a lot of days around the holidays, when Christmas card and catalog volume was at its heaviest -- which was fine with me, because that's when I was between semesters.
In addition to mail, we also still had a fair amount of parcel post. I remember delivering an entire car exhaust system once. Fortunately, the shipments of live chicks that arrived every spring had to be picked up by the addressees.
As a rural carrier, I was kind of a quasi-contractor and had to provide my own vehicle. I had a pretty motley series of motor transports back then, but I remember breaking down only once. Another sub rural carrier had some early-'60s Renault Dauphines that seemed to serve him well -- of course, he had more than one!
I kept the j*b for three years, when I graduated and sought an opportunity to begin my "professional" career. Coincidentally, a lifer in the local station retired as I was leaving, opening up a position that I chose not to pursue. I second-guessed myself on that decision from time to time over ensuing years, but 40 years later I'm happy with the path I took.