Gad, I love it here...

 I go in, put a copy of my passport on the counter and say, in my best but still abominable Spanish. I have lost the key to my box. Can I get a new one? "He perder la llave de la caja. Puedo conseguir una otra?"   My demeanor and tone are meant to convey that I realize what a careless, ignorant, irresponsible, foreigner I am and can you possibly forgive my stupidity and issue me a new key? 

The girl looks at my passport, goes to the file drawer, compares it to my record and returns to the counter. Matter-of-factly, she fishes a plastic bag from under the counter and  dumps maybe 100 old used keys on the counter. Each key has a tiny sticker with the number of a PO box on it. We sort through the heap of keys and find the one with my box number. 

I try it. It doesn't work. The girl tries it.  It doesn't work. The girl opens the big door that uncovers all the PO boxes.  We work on it from both sides now, jiggling and twisting. The key still won't work. We agree and commiserate, no it won't work.

So, just as matter-of-factly, the girl hands me my mail--junk-- and says, well we'll just do it this way until another key turns up. She gathers all the used keys, puts them in the plastic bag and replaces it  under the counter. I say thank you and leave.

I realize, and so does she,  that another key will never appear. I also realize that the next time I come in, no passport will be necessary, she will just hand me my mail. No big deal, no hassle, just common sense.

That's how we do it here. Ain't it great? Imagine trying this in Indy or Atlanta or LA or Berlin.