The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight (maeincarnate) wrote,
The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight
maeincarnate

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I hate my paperboy

I get the Sunday Post delivered to my apartment. I like to have it, even if it generally takes me the whole week to read the thing (laze and read the front page on Sunday, then read the rest of it throughout the week. Who says that I need to read that stuff right away anyway? They probably wrote the Style section six months ago, and do I really need to know today that there’s an art exhibit in a city I don’t live in or that it’s fun to travel to Jamaica?). For a while, I was noticing every week that pieces of it were missing. The plastic-wrapped comics/coupons/magazine section one week, Style, Arts and Travel another. Then some days it just looked like it had been messed with; while all of the sections were there, they were all out of order: A, J, K, L, D, E, Book World, F, G, B, and so on, which would make me have to put the whole damn thing in order to see if it really was all there. Granted, I usually wasn’t up or had forgotten about getting it until noon or so, giving the low-rent scumbags in my building plenty of time to rummage through my paper, and past the cut off time for me to call the Post and bitch at them for a new one.

One morning when it was still evening for me, I heard a rhythmic “thwap” coming from out in the hallway. I had crawled into bed just minutes earlier and a few thwaps later and a look at the clock made me realize…”PAPER!” I sprang out of bed, tossed on my robe and opened the front door. There was my paper, looking the same way it did when I would get it at noon. It was all out of order and kinda fanned out as if someone had already been though it. I had been theorizing that the paper guy was skimming a section or two off of everyone’s paper to make up a few extras, bill them off the book and skim the profit. Perhaps I overestimated the cunning of a paperboy.

He was still in my hallway, only a few doors down. I said to him, “Can I get a complete paper this week?” And he looked stunned and said it’s all there. So, in my robe, half-in and half-out of my door, I re-arranged the paper. Sure enough, it was there but out of order. What a lazy schmuck this guy must be. If you’re going to put it together, put it together right for christ’s sake. Is AJKLDEBookWorldFGB some mnemonic device for you?

This morning, though I had been asleep for hours I heard the thwaps again, and today it didn’t take me long to figure out what it was. I wanted to go get the paper before anyone else got it but I was worried that I would look like some freak coming out and getting it as soon as he dropped it. When I was picking it up, he heard me open my door and looked at me. I said something completely dumb and un-witty like “Oh! (uncomfortable laugh) I hear you every week now!” And he stared at me with the “crazy bitch” look on his face. He had every right to.
Tags: life stories, rant
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