“The Infamous Robin”
Wednesday, December 12, 2007, I met “The Infamous Robin” at the West Bloomfield Post-Office.
“Why ‘infamous?’” Robin asked.
“Because like you,” I said, “my wife works at this post-office.”
I deferred from relating my wife’s declaring Robin is a slop-hound.
“And who would that be?” Robin asked quizzically.
“Linda Hughes,” I said.
“Oh yes, Linda. Mother this is Mr. Hughes,” Robin said. “They live down Route 65 across from where Habecker used to live, two doors from Esther.”
(Habecker [Vern] is our 94-year-old nosy neighbor; “Esther” [Rehberg: “REE-burg”] is the retired West Bloomfield Town Clerk. —I’m told it’s actually Esther’s daughter........)
“Habecker still lives there,” I said.
That was either unheard, unnoted, or disregarded.
“This is my mother, Mr. Hughes,” Robin said. “She lives right here in town, up behind the Town Hall.”
An approximation of Mother Gargle from the Born Loser cartoon greeted me, though lacking the frizzed hair and curlers.
“The Infamous Robin” is a big, blowsy woman, a dead ringer for a messy person. (“A really nice person,” Linda says; “but messy.”)
In her favor she works at the nearby and larger Lima Post-Office, which unlike tiny West Bloomfield is ‘pyooterized. West Bloomfield is a manual office, staffed by only one person, “Fran,” the postmaster.
Robin and my wife fill in, mostly Robin recently, since my wife is on the cancer-gig.
The West Bloomfield Post-Office has a doorbell on the counter to get the attention of the clerk, who sits out back.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Robin said. “Gotta finish my donut — chompf-chompf.”
Sometimes Robin works mornings, and my wife afternoons. Other times Fran works mornings followed by my wife.
“You can tell the difference,” my wife observed. “With Fran everything is in order, with nothing left to do. With Robin packages are tossed all over the place, and things left undone.”
Robin also belongs to the West Bloomfield Congregational Church, and is continually showering my wife with “Get-Well” cards. “Uh-ohhhh; another card from Robin.”
“Is your wife working this week?” Robin asked.
“I doubt it,” I said.
“Why ‘infamous?’” Robin asked.
“Because like you,” I said, “my wife works at this post-office.”
I deferred from relating my wife’s declaring Robin is a slop-hound.
“And who would that be?” Robin asked quizzically.
“Linda Hughes,” I said.
“Oh yes, Linda. Mother this is Mr. Hughes,” Robin said. “They live down Route 65 across from where Habecker used to live, two doors from Esther.”
(Habecker [Vern] is our 94-year-old nosy neighbor; “Esther” [Rehberg: “REE-burg”] is the retired West Bloomfield Town Clerk. —I’m told it’s actually Esther’s daughter........)
“Habecker still lives there,” I said.
That was either unheard, unnoted, or disregarded.
 | Mother Gargle. |
An approximation of Mother Gargle from the Born Loser cartoon greeted me, though lacking the frizzed hair and curlers.
“The Infamous Robin” is a big, blowsy woman, a dead ringer for a messy person. (“A really nice person,” Linda says; “but messy.”)
In her favor she works at the nearby and larger Lima Post-Office, which unlike tiny West Bloomfield is ‘pyooterized. West Bloomfield is a manual office, staffed by only one person, “Fran,” the postmaster.
Robin and my wife fill in, mostly Robin recently, since my wife is on the cancer-gig.
The West Bloomfield Post-Office has a doorbell on the counter to get the attention of the clerk, who sits out back.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Robin said. “Gotta finish my donut — chompf-chompf.”
Sometimes Robin works mornings, and my wife afternoons. Other times Fran works mornings followed by my wife.
“You can tell the difference,” my wife observed. “With Fran everything is in order, with nothing left to do. With Robin packages are tossed all over the place, and things left undone.”
Robin also belongs to the West Bloomfield Congregational Church, and is continually showering my wife with “Get-Well” cards. “Uh-ohhhh; another card from Robin.”
“Is your wife working this week?” Robin asked.
“I doubt it,” I said.
posted by BobbaLew at 11:57 AM
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