What is this Thingamajig?

Have you ever thought, “What is this thing?” when you saw a picture of an odd device on social media? Well, be ready for a perplexing circumstance! Today, we’re solving the riddle of an odd object that has confused many.

It may surprise you to learn that this strange device is actually a postal scale. Bewildered? Allow me to clarify the purpose and actual nature of a postal scale.

Postal Scale

Consider using the regular postal service to send a letter or parcel. It’s important to know its weight before you apply the stamp and mail it. The postal scale enters the picture at this point. It is the unsung hero of the postal industry, made with the purpose of weighing items.

Postal scales were once frequently seen in both households and businesses. All you would have to do was set your package or letter on the scale and observe how the needle landed. You would then instantly be aware of the item’s weight in ounces. It was a basic yet necessary tool for people who sent mail on a regular basis.

You might wonder if postal scales are still necessary in the modern world of email and instant communications. But hey, what do you know? They still have a lot of relevance. Even though they might not be as widely used as they once were, postal scales are nonetheless essential for mailing and shipping. They are especially important to businesses as they let them precisely estimate postage expenses and steer clear of unforeseen problems at the post office.

There you have it, then. This unusual device’s mystery has now been revealed. Even though it’s not the most fascinating equipment, the standard postal scale performs its function admirably. Maybe the next time you see one, you’ll see its utility and simplicity a little more.

My mother abandoned me in a cardboard box at a supermarket when I was an infant — two decades later, she reached out to me for assistance

Sue was left in a cardboard box as a small child. Luckily, a store clerk took her home and changed the course of her entire life. Now, in the form of an unexpected knock at the door, Sue has to face her past and the disappointment that comes with it. Is this a grand reunion or the biggest disappointment of Sue’s life?

I was left in a cardboard box in a supermarket twenty years ago. I was just a few months old, and all I had to my name were a few photos of my mother and a note.

The note read: I will always love you, Sue.

Nobody knew my surname or whether I had a middle name. Nobody seemed to know my mother or what had happened to my father. I was all alone in a world that didn’t know anything about me.

But even then, at a few months old, I seemed to be fortune’s fool. I was found by a kind store clerk, Ruby, who took me in.

“I couldn’t leave you there, Sue,” she would say whenever the story came up. “I became your guardian shortly after and raised you as my own. You became my little bug.”

Ruby was everything to me. And as I grew, the closer we became.

I was forever grateful that she gave me everything I needed. But still, I never stopped wondering why my mother left me and if she would ever come back.

“I know that it bothers you, darling,” Ruby told me one day as she made lasagna for dinner. “But she’s an enigma now. We have nothing that could lead us to her.”

“I know,” I said, grating more cheese for when the dish was ready. “It’s just frustrating when I start thinking about it.”

“You love the internet, you love social media, Sue. Use it, share your story, maybe it will resonate with people, and you can connect with others just like you.”

She opened the oven and put the tray of lasagna inside.

So I did just that, and I became a well-known video blogger, sharing my story with the world.

“You’ve created a safe platform for people to share their stories, too,” Ruby told me when I read comments from my latest video to her.

“It means something to me,” I said, helping myself to the eclairs on the table.

Fast forward to the present. I am successful and able to provide for myself and my guardian.

“So much for being an abandoned baby,” I said to myself as I washed my face one night.

But imagine my surprise when an unexpected knock on my door changed everything.

I opened the door to find a frail, older woman standing there, her eyes filled with regret and desperation.

“Sue, darling,” she said. “I am your mother, and I need your help!”

I just looked at her, unable to blink for fear of missing the moment.

“Do you still have the note I left with you when I left you safely in the store?”

Safely? I thought to myself. I stood there, paralyzed by the flood of emotions that had come in when she entered my home.

“Yes, I have it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I kept it.”

“I know I have no right to ask for your help after what I did, but I need you to believe me when I say I had no choice back then. I was running from a dangerous situation. And I thought leaving you in a safe place was the only way to protect you. I needed to disappear.”

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