When I arrived, I'd have a continental Irish breakfast which was a cup of tea and a cigarette. Each postie was allocated certain roads and streets, so first you sorted the post into streets and then into house numbers in the specific order of your round. There was always a great bit of banter going on as numerous cups of tea and smokes were consumed and some poor postie would normally be the brunt of the jokes.
At about 8am, we'd head off in a van and get dropped off at our allotted spot to walk the route and deliver the mail. A dog may be 'mans best friend' but he's a postman's worst enemy. There were some fierce and vicious K9's on my route. I soon developed some exceptional survival skills such as clamboring over 7 foot walls to escape the fangs of death. I don't know if it's the uniform or the whistling (it's mandatory in Ireland for the postman to whistle badly off key!) but most dogs HATE the postman.
One of the houses I delivered to had a bad ass German shepherd called Gnasher with a nasty disposition. Luckily he was contained behind a metal gate by the side of the house but as I passed the gate each day, he would be wait silently then suddenly go berserk and bark and snarl and push his face thru the gate with all the force he had. The first time he did it I nearly shit my pants as he caught me off guard.
My last day on the job I decided to get my revenge on Gnasher. I rolled up a newspaper and as he let loose with his torrent of K9 abuse I slapped him on the snout with the paper. Animal lovers - fear not - I didn't hit him that hard but the shock sent him yelping to the back of the house.
A few weeks later I heard thru the grapevine that the poor schlep that took over my route had a bit of misfortune on his very first day. Gnasher somehow got beyond the gate and sank his fangs into new posties butt cheeks requiring stitches and a tetanus injection.
Apparently his bite was worse than his bark. Luckily, I didn't experience it first hand!
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