How do you order new karma?

Mr. Riot Kitty tells me the universe has interesting kinds of karma.

"My kind," he says, "is that people don't see me. Your kind is that no one ever gets your order right."

Apparently the building I work in has karma, too.

A couple of months ago, the owners of the building moved all of their people to another one. They're selling the building, but my work and another nonprofit are still using space there.

As a result, there's no longer a receptionist, ergo, the mailman doesn't bring in the mail. There's a slot in the front and we asked ahead of time for him to leave slips (like you do) if we have packages. This was after he said, "I'll just leave your mail outside in a bin from now on."

To which we replied, "No, that would be illegal."

It's too much trouble for him to ring the buzzer and wait for us to open the door and pick up the mail.

Apparently it's also too much trouble for him to put the mail in the slot. We came back from the Thanksgiving break and found our FUCKING PAYROLL INFORMATION, as well as envelopes with checks for our annual appeal, on the grass. Soaking wet. Out in the open, for anyone to take.

My mother-in-law, god bless her, works for the post office and is getting to retire at the end of the year. She works in customer service and I imagine she's counting the days. She has actually intervened for me before, when our home mailman was putting the wrong mail in our box. (She asked: "How hard can it be to put the right mail in the right slot?" Apparently, this, too, is part of my karma.)

I know there are people who call who are real jerks. All the more reason for them to take my polite and very real complaint seriously, right?

Silly me.

In my dealings with the post office, I was repeatedly asked all kinds of ridiculous questions before anyone would take my complaint.

Why hadn't we complained before? (We did.)
Why would he want to put your mail in a bin? (My guess is as good as yours.)
Had we talked to the carrier? (Yes.)
Why, then, did this keep happening? (You tell me?)

My favorite question, from the regional post office in our zone:
"Is the slot right near the ground? Is that why he'd put mail on the ground?" (The slot is waist high. As for his motivations, search me.)

And then the final question, which was what made me reach my limit, because I'd heard it so many times: "Why would he put the mail on the ground?"

My reply: "Presumably, because he didn't want to put it in the mail slot."

Who knows what will happen now? Maybe he'll spit on it. I'd like to order some new postal karma, please.