If It Fits, It Ships

In my last post, I undertook somewhat of an exploration of how designers and craftsmen metaphorically pushed the envelope, but, today, I decided to attach a more literal meaning to that idiom. I needed to mail a few items halfway across the country, and, as I considered the options, I found that physically stretching the limits of a USPS "Flat Rate" envelope would prove the most efficient. There is something about small challenges like that which just make me smile. Sure, it would save me a few bucks too, but what really intrigued me was the plausibility of the concept. To put it simply, I wanted to see if I could actually do it, and, more importantly, if I could get away with it.

I was pretty confident I could pull of the first part. Though people would think a box would hold more than an envelope, I have grown to understand that the inverse is true (and they cost the same), and, though wrapping it up was a struggle, I manage to seal the envelope using only the adhesive they provided. I looked it over, making sure it wasn't bordering on tearing itself apart, and I slapped on an address label. The battle was halfway to completion, and I was pretty sure I would come out victorious, but I still felt a little anxious.

The second part of the battle was a touch more intimidating. I felt like I was trying to squeeze by, without suffering reprimand, for my gross misuse of packaging and breach of protocol. Then, it hit me. The worst possible outcome was that they might reject my package, and that wouldn't be much of a loss. The first attempt at packaging had cost me nothing, other than time, and I might have to pay a bit more in shipping, but my package would arrive to its destination without issue. So, I took it to the counter, and I was on pins and needles as I awaited the verdict.

Not only did my package managed to earn itself a shipping label, but the cashier almost seemed supportive of the venture. Actually, now that I think about it, I think she actually approved. She looked at my packaging job, and complimented me on "really squeezing it in there" and being her "kind of man". To top it off, she even complimented my handwriting. I didn't know what to say, but I thanked her, paid for the services, and went on my way.

Though there is no shortage of quotations on the importance of trying, the whole experience reminded me of the Dutch impressionist, Vincent Van Gogh. He has been quoted as asking, "what would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?" and that's a question whose answer seems almost too clear. No true accomplishment seems to come without having to accept the risk of failure. You may not always come out successful, but I am one to believe we are measured by the quantity and quality of our successes. They inevitably come with a seemingly greater number of failures, but those are the costs of trying. Basically, the greatness of our successes is in direct proportion to the greatness of our efforts, and we have to accept the risk of failure. If I need to put it more simply, it's a numbers game.

Today, I faced the minimal risk of failure whose only punishment would have been to repackage my parcel, and I came out on top. It was a success, and I'm glad I tried. What it really came down to was the rush of testing how genuinely the United States Postal Service would back its own "Flat Rate" slogan. I wanted to find out how truthful they were in guaranteeing that "if it fits, it ships."