Beer and Ice

In 1899, the Reverend Wm. Isaac Newton decided that the burgeoning population (150) of Stapp, Texas deserved the services of a post office.

When the preacher submitted the application to the U.S. Postal Service he did so in the name of his son, Audice. The name was misread, however, and the approval came back for "Andice".

Actually, the local legend is more entertaining. Seems the wits claim that the venerable Andice store had a sign that said, "Beer and Ice" (and the "Beer" part of the sign fell off one day?).

Regardless of the origin of the name, the community of Andice has been loyally served for 110 years by a local postmaster. I am confident that through this century of service, neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stayed Andician couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds. All this in spite of the fact that the current population is estimated at 25 (which coincidentally is the approximate number of postal boxes available).

A few months back, your humble ranch hand was blessed to move into this community and proudly rented a post office box secure in the knowledge that I would live out my remaining days as part of this proud tradition.

......and then the odyssey began.....

The sign in front of the post office provides the date of inception (1899) and the zip code (78628). Only thing is, when I rented the box I was told my zip code would be 78733. When I questioned this discrepancy, I was told that since a certain date, all new residents were being assigned the new zip code. I was further assured by the resident government bureaucrat that "it will not make any difference"?????

Then the trouble started:

1. When vendors enter your zip code in a computer, software populates the city/state fields. The zip code I was assigned (and changed my address to with the entire friggin world) would enter "Georgetown".

In order to "fix" this problem, my brilliant edumacated brain notified all (the entire friggin world again) that my zip was actually (trust me on this) 78628.

2. "Fixing" that problem created a geometrically superior problem. When you use a credit card in certain applications, you must input your zip code. Now I had to "guess" if the records for a card listed my old Austin zip, my first Andice zip, or my alias assumed Andice zip (just because you notify your creditor/vendor of an address change doesn't control when their records are updated).

Here's the kicker, you only get one "guess" and the card vendor "locks" your account. It assumes that if a dumass don't know his own zip, he must have stolen the card. It don't pay no never mind that you are at a gas pump and your fuel tank is on vapors. It could care less if you have just consumed a sumptuous meal (with no cash in your pocket) and there is a long line of customers behind you at the cash register. The demon merely roars if your daughter is residing hundreds of miles away and financially founders because the credit card daddy provided will not function??????????

As is the way of things, the travesty finally settled out, the zip code nightmare subsided, and life in the country resumed its blissful pace.

Until yesterday........................

The ole ranch hand innocently sauntered into the Andice Post Office and found a note in his box giving notification that the post office will permanently close its doors at the end of this month. It survived storm, pestilence, the Great Depression, and two world wars only to be scrapped for the sake of "efficiency and economy of scale" (or more likely a communist plot??)

And the worst part: Now the zip code nightmare begins anew.

All yall pray for the ranch hands' continued semi-sanity on this one!