How to “rebrand” Russian Post with cats

I was at the post office today. I sent a registered letter. So, when I go into my long-loved branch in the very center of the city, I see well-known, dejected and hunched postal workers almost under the ceiling. Postal workers put up New Year's tinsel and create a festive atmosphere.

Tinsel is an important matter. Yes, and I, who long ago grasped the main principle of communication with Russian Post employees - “don’t anger, lest you be sent,” stand quietly and wait for me to be noticed. And then, jumping off the wooden stools, the women rushed towards me, with smiles, the radiance of which would be inferior only to the feigned grin of the waiters of the most expensive restaurant.

And then it started pouring out: “Good afternoon, how can we help you, can we be of assistance?”

To be honest, I was taken aback by this reception and was not immediately able to convey to them my modest need of an ordinary client.

Here, however, I remembered how a month ago, at a press conference at Russian Post, our local boss was puffing and proving to the audience that the postal business was so bad that it was either a rebranding or a return to pigeon delivery.

“We will be... like Sberbank,” she assured. - That is, first the scoop and the women in the queues, and then the beautiful girls with smiles and chairs in the hall.

Then I realized - pigeons are canceled - they chose rebranding. The girls, however, were not changed. It’s just that now they suddenly became happy with life and began to smile in unison.

While in ecstatic feelings of blissful jubilation, my gaze accidentally caught some movement in the corner of the office. There was a mouse walking in the corner of the office. Plain, gray. She walked around quite like a boss, spent some time in the corridor, went to the operators, then headed to the accounting department.

“Oh, your mouse is walking around,” I was involuntarily surprised.

“We know,” the employees were not surprised. - Maria Petrovna, the mouse has come to you.

Maria Petrovna, a well-fed older woman, stamped her foot a couple of times and continued going about her business. At this point, the range of measures to eliminate the rodent was exhausted.

I didn’t manage to recover from what I saw so quickly: I filled out the envelope while sitting on a chair, legs slightly crossed.

- And the mouse, can it eat something? - I didn’t let up. For example, New Year's parcels. What about candies, chocolate Santa Claus and tangerines?

- What are you talking about, our boxes at Russian Post are so dense! Boxes - what you need! A mouse won’t gnaw through something like that,” the postal workers assured me.

And in all this tailed turmoil, I had already forgotten about the warm welcome, and about the foreign word rebranding, which is like a balm for the soul for a Russian person. But the postal employees did not lose face again.

— Thank you for using the services of Russian Post. "Russian Post" works for you! Have a nice day, come see us again,” the operator rattled off a memorized phrase with the same sugary smile.

In general, Russian Post has a future, I thought. All that remains is to improve it a little more, for example, to “rebrand” the mice as specially trained cats.