Our founding fathers, those wise fellas who sat down to invent the American government, knew communication is vital. They lived in a time before we used the smartphone, the internet, or satellites whizzing overhead. The only way to reach out to someone was to write a letter, so they installed Article I, Section 8, Clause 7, in the Constitution. It gave Congress the power to establish post offices. And they did.

Since the end of the 19th Century, Americans have used the U.S. Postal Service to send a note to grandma. A few days later, grandma was all smiles after getting a letter that said we are all OK, that Aunt Cordelia recovered from COVID-19, and everyone loves her very much. We use the USPS office to transact commerce, too. Here at the edge of the nation, we drive to the post office, open a box and pull out the catalogs, a newspaper and bills.

In our house, it has been our practice for the family finance department to open the bills, note to see if they are correct, write a check, stuff it in an envelope, and stick a stamp on it. Then I deliver it to the post office. It is a simple and efficient way to conduct our family business. Or, well, it used to be.

In recent months, our side functions as it has for years. But, on the other side, something is wrong. We got calls from our friendly business partners asking if we were OK because we had not paid this month's bill. That call sent the family finance department into a tizzy because, for decades, these bills have always, always been paid on time.

It seems that the folks in the middle, those created and protected by Article I, Section 8, Clause 7, have developed a case of the fumbles. In case you think it is a problem with its roots in our house, I assure you it is not.

Once upon a time, you could fix a problem like this with a phone call or two. You would pick up the phone, the one with the long wire attached to the receiver, and dial. Usually, a nice woman would direct you to the proper department, and you were on the way to a solution. In our modern Buzz Lightyear world, a computer answers the phone and sticks you in what is called a phone tree.

You know all about them. A distant computer voice answers and asks a series of questions like: "If you want A, press one and so forth.” The chances of getting connected to that nice woman who knows everything and everyone are slim.

Last week, it was my task to navigate a phone tree. I suppose it was my old Marine Corps training that gave me the patience to climb the phone tree until I reached a live human being. That human, who was not allowed to tell me her last name, said they had experienced similar USPS problems. When I proposed to FEDEX a check overnight, she agreed to erase the late fees and interest added to our account.

The family finance department was pleased with the resolution but was decidedly not happy with the FEDEX charge and other added expenses associated with the transaction.

The next day, I called the post office to ask what happened. After climbing another phone tree and spending 20 minutes on hold, I spoke to a nice woman who apologized. I explained our experience, and she pledged to pass the complaint to the proper department. Two days later, I got a call from another nice woman who again apologized and said she would check into it.

The following day, I got an email message that said they looked into the situation and, because of COVID and other world events, they were having problems and were unable to discover what happened in our case. We are so sorry, they said. Twenty-four hours later, the USPS sent me an email asking me to take a survey to rate their service. When I clicked on their survey link, my computer's anti-virus protection program lit up the screen like a Christmas tree. It warned me not to proceed, as the post office survey site contained a terrible virus.

On Sunday, March 21, we got an email notice telling us they received the original check we mailed on Feb. 19.

That is my story. How about you? Have you had any problems with the USPS? Let me know. Drop me an email at joesjournal@gmail.com or drop a letter to the editor. It will probably arrive sometime.