“The Postmaster.”
Speech No. 5 in the Toastmasters “Communication and Leadership” Manual
Date presented: 28 Nov,1995
The objectives of this speech were:
- To explore the use of voice, volume, pitch, rate and quality
as assets to your speaking - To apply the principles of a well-developed voice
to a particular speech.
Time 5 to 7 minutes.
The Postmaster
Some people appear to be devoid of human compassion, and the postmaster in our small country town was one of them.He was short and squat like a letterbox, with a pugnacious jaw and grey hair that bristled with impatience.
No one lingered to exchange pleasantries over the counter. No unaccompanied child was sent to buy stamps. All were in awe of his ferocious frown and verbal viciousness.
And yet – he always spoke kindly to his dog. It wasn’t a bit like Laddie, my lovely Labrador. It was a stupid fox terrier, fat and smelly and bad tempered like it’s master. All day it would sit in the doorway of the postoffice, snapping and snarling at anyone who dared to enter.
The mat at the door had “Welcome” printed on it. Hah! That was the only time the postmaster displayed a sense of humor. Anyone with the temerity to enter would receive a blistering glare.
How dare they disturb him in the middle of his mystery novel? He would read to the end of the chapter,then stomp indignantly to the counter.
“Well, what do you want? I haven’t got all day, you know. Oh, no, don’t tell me you want change!”
If it hadn’t been for that irrascible postmaster I would have enjoyed my first job on the telephone exchange. I was 17 and excruciatingly shy. At first it was an effort for me to stammer “Number please” and “Three minutes, are you extending?”
As I gained confidence, it became a game to see if I could answer the calls before Marcy did. But if the Postmaster’s number lit up on the switchboard, we would both hesitate, each hoping the other would take the call. While in the adjoining room, he would furiously pump the receiver up and down, his face indicating stormy weather by changing from red to purple.
When the called number didn’t answer immediately, he would throw down the phone, run to the switchboard and berate us for not ringing loud enough. Meanwhile, of course the called party would answer and hang up, so the whole pantomime had to be repeated.
I used to dread payday. We had to enter the main office and practically beg the postmaster for our pay. One day when I timidly approached his desk, he was so absorbed in his book, he didn’t hear me until I spoke.
“Ahem. excuse me, Sir…”
He shot up out of his chair with a furious bellow. “What do you mean, sneaking up on me like that!”
After that, I never went in while he was reading. I made sure of that by first peeking through the keyhole – until one day I got a terrible shock. There was a baleful blue eye glaring back at me from the other side!
We had always suspected him of spying on us. He often used to slink furtively around the back of the postoffice.
Marcy told me he took anything left lying around. I didn’t believe he’d stoop that low. Still, things did disappear – the watch I left on the sink, coins from the table, biscuits out of our locker – and Marcy’s chocolates.
She was really upset about those chocolates. The new telephone technician had brought them for her.
“He’s gorgeous” she told me. “He has big soft brown eyes, like your dog, Laddie.”
A few days later my lovely dog was run over. My beautiful golden Laddie with the soft brown eyes.
How could I sound brisk and cheerful as I answered calls that day, while my heart was breaking?
I don’t know who told the postmaster. He came strutting into the room where I sat at the switchboard. His dispeptic dog waddled behind. They looked so alike.
He looked at me thoughtfully, not unkindly, then at his dog. Could he be imagining how he would feel if he lost his dog? Could he actually be ….human?
Suddenly he thrust a box in front of me.
“Would you like a chocolate?”
“Er..thankyou,” I stammered “but I couldn’t. I..I’m on a diet.”
I felt miserable.
The simple gesture of sympathy had not been easy for him and it seemed churlish to rebuff him.
But I couldn’t take one of Marcy’s chocolates, could I?
COMMENTS
This was a story I had written for a Creative Writing course. I reused it for this speech. Although it had scope for vocal variety, a speech especially written to suit the requirements probably would have been better.
