Union Gaps And Smelly Russians
It's that time of the year again when your local newspaper person sends out a cheerful "Holiday" card guilting you into giving them a usually undeserved monetary gift.
I was at the Elder's whoos this weekend and saw a card from his East European carrier. The guy didn't even buy the card, it was supplied by the Star Tribune. And he barely signed the thing himself (I imagine he somehow made time between long drags on his Marlboro).
Well tonight I got home from work and saw tucked inside my WSJ a card from my carrier. "So I have to give this worthless bastard money now too?" I cynically cried aloud to myself, just having paid a mountain of bills related to my moving to a new city. But I was surprised by the honesty in the card: (my comments in parenthesis)
My name is Gary Puckett (apparently the oldies circuit aint what it used to be). I started with Wallstreet around June 2003. I had a rocky start, but I believe I am getting everything down now (is there anything special about delivering "Wallstreet" versus any other paper?). I hope my service is pleasing you. If there is anything I can do different, please let me know.
Cynical manipulation to explain away why I had to wade into a foot of snow in the bushes to get the paper last Thursday? Or, more likely, just a guy who is trying to make a living and is admitting he wasn't perfect? Either way, I'll send him a few bucks this year.
Elder, can you say the same?
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