Anatomy of a book mailing

We have successfully mailed copies of our book “Outdoors in Western Mexico” to people living overseas, but never without a certain amount of tragicomedy, mystery and surprise, which all too often accompany a visit to Correos de México.

One of those mysterious and surprising events took place two years ago when a post office clerk casually mentioned that they no would longer allow a book to be mailed in an envelope, even if that book is a thin paperback. “The book must be mailed in a box,” we were told unequivocally.

A check of several shops suggested that nowhere in Guadalajara could we purchase a box close to the size of our book. As a result, I became a box maker, hand-crafting custom-made boxes for people in far-flung places who — for some reason — wanted a book about hiking in western Mexico, with the understanding, I should add, that the book would take at least a month to arrive... about as long as it would take a burro to carry it to the border, I calculated.

Then one day something unbelievable happened. We, ourselves received a book from a friend in Mexico via Correos … and it was in an envelope! 

Off we went to the Post Office, where we were told: “You are wrong. That book was not in an envelope, señor, it was in a sobre acolchado (bubble-wrap envelope)... con esos no hay problema.”

“It makes perfect sense in Correo-Speak,” I told Susy. So ended my box-making career, and our next book went to the Post Office in a you-know-what lined with bubble-wrap. This time, however, we were told that the price of sending books had suddenly increased. “It will now cost you 140 pesos to send that 200-peso book,” the smiling clerk told us, “but you will be happy to learn this new price includes tracking.”

The book had been sent on February 9, so the next day I fired up the computer, went to correosdemexico.gob.mx and entered the tracking number.

“No information can be found about this item,” was the reply. At the right were options including On-line Chat.

“I certainly would like to chat about this,” I said to myself. So I filled in all the boxes and pressed SEND. Instantly, everything I typed vanished.

I tried again: same result. But this time I noticed a tab saying “I would like Correos to call me.” Although I was by now exasperated, I was still plenty stubborn, so I typed in my phone number and this time SEND worked.

Now comes the part you will never believe. I certainly didn’t. Exactly one minute after I pressed SEND, our phone rang... and, yes, it was an employee of Correos—it really was!—asking me to explain my problem. Once I got over the shock, I told my story.

“When did you send your package?” asked the Correos rep.

“Yesterday”

Paciencia, señor, it takes two days for the data to enter our system.”

“So I should check it tomorrow, Thursday.”

Bueno...mm...better if you check it next Monday.”

I did, and got the same old “no info” message, not only on Monday, but during that entire week and the following. No sign that my package had ever been mailed. However, thirteen days later, on February 22, the tracking site suddenly announced that my parcel existed and was now in Mexico City. Hallelujah!

Unfortunately, from then on, the website revealed the book lying around in the D.F. all the way until March 5, when it finally went off to the USA.

Then, after only four days in the U.S., the book was delivered to the addressee, Mr. Steve Wilson in Oklahoma. Time for another Hallelujah!

So my package took a full month to go from Jalisco to Oklahoma, and thanks to tracking, I now know it spent 25 days of that month languishing somewhere in Mexico.

In bygone days we could only scratch our heads and venture guesses about what happened to our packages once we dropped them off at the post office. Now, however, the digital revolution has come to Correos de México and all has been revealed... well, all except for the name of that infinitely patient, slow-walking burro which apparently still carries our mail all the way up to the border.