Story by Jon Stalnaker AKA The Studebaker Dude
As I was climbing the management ladder at the Postal Service back in the late 80s, I was asked to serve as the accident investigator for the Stockton Sectional Center, which covers from Lodi to just south of Merced and from Tracy to the foothills.
I was eating up all the opportunities sent my way, and I was asked to fill this position for a silly reason. I was just a supervisor in training (we called them 204Bs), and as the supervisor, I was expected to do the accident investigation paperwork for any employee assigned to my work unit. It was the week after Christmas, and the kiddies were home playing with their new Christmas toys before going back to school after New Year’s Day.
I got a call from one of my carriers. He had run over a brand-new radio-controlled car with his mail truck. He was delivering the mail to a group mailbox in the middle of a cul-de-sac. The carrier did not even see the child playing with his toy, and the youngster drove the toy car underneath the mail truck as the carrier drove away to his next stop. A sad accident for sure, but not really the mailman’s fault. It was a bit of a slow day, and I had a little too much time to fill out the paperwork.
I had to make a drawing of the accident scene, and I got a bit carried away. I drew a picture of the child holding his remote control on the sidewalk, with the smashed toy car under the wheel of the mail truck. I was having a little Christmastime fun with a boring bit of bureaucratic paperwork, and I sent it to the sectional center office for the next level of processing.
Lucky for me, the safety officer at the next level appreciated the humor and my artwork, and it made an impression on her. It just so happened that an opening for the Sectional Center Accident Investigator needed to be filled, and my little shenanigan got me on the short list of candidates. I received a call from the SC office, and was a bit intimidated when the manager on the line asked me about that report I submitted. I thought I was in trouble until the lady on the other end of this phone call started laughing.
She asked me if I was interested in taking the assignment, and I accepted. They sent me to a training center in Norman, Oklahoma, for three weeks of training. My first trip to Oklahoma. They set me up with a room at the Couch Tower overlooking the Sooner Stadium. The only bad part about that was that I had to share a bathroom with another roommate next door. We had people from all over the United States in this class, and I remember one student was from New York City. He kept complaining because he expected a doorman at the entrance to the Couch Tower building. He was so funny.
It was a long course and for the most part kept my attention, but I did let my mind wander a little bit. I was sitting in the middle of a C-shaped series of tables with the instructor, Jack, in the middle. There was another instructor, Dale, a couple of seats from me in the middle. Norman was the guy from NYC, and he had an interesting-looking face. His hair was squared off in the back, and he had angular sideburns and a goatee. I wondered whether I could capture that look on paper, so I did a little doodling of him during lecture time. Roosevelt was sitting next to him, and I wanted to capture his look, too. They came out very well, and the next thing I knew, I was drawing everyone in the classroom.
I was proud of myself for getting all of them, and they came out pretty good, too. And I thought I had gotten away with getting this done without getting caught. The two students sitting next to me (Mayme and Russell) were the hardest to draw without seeming to be staring at them.
When I got it done, I slipped it under the other papers at my desk and got nervous when Jack came up to me and asked to see what I was drawing. He confiscated it and left the room without saying a word. I was afraid it would end up on the Postmaster’s desk back home in Stockton. Oh well, I had fun while it lasted. Jack came back in the room and handed out warm copies of the page, hot out of the copy machine. He made a copy for everyone, and they all liked it. Of course, if you look closely at the picture, you will see my name under the mechanical pencil I drew.
The best part of that whole experience was when I got back home. I witnessed an accident involving the flower shop truck that I used to deliver the mail to. I let them know I saw the whole thing, and they sent me to their lawyer to explain what I saw.
There was another lawyer who was abusive and tried to discredit me in the deposition. He was getting under my skin until he asked me, what makes you an expert witness. I was so happy to answer that question. It went on record that I am the United States Postal Service Accident Investigator for the Stockton Sectional Center, covering a large portion of the state of California. That shut his punk mouth up. One does not get many opportunities to make an arrogant attorney speechless.
