What a Way to Start a Sunday Morning

Dear Washington Post People:

For several weeks now, I have calmly and generously ignored a Less Than Ideal Situation. After an incident on Sunday morning, I can no longer let this state of affairs continue unaddressed.

For nearly a year, I have subscribed to the Sunday Edition of your paper, as do my neighbors. In the past, our Delivery Person would drop our individual papers in front of each recipient’s door. I believe this was in keeping with the concept of “home delivery.” However, we must have a new Delivery Person or s/he has become Totally Lazy. As of late July, delivery has consisted of a heap of papers in the middle of the hallway, at the elevator bank, which is about 20 feet from the nearest apartment entrance. Per the Official Condo Bylaws of Chez Apartment, my front door is where my “home” begins and the hallway, elevator, and anything else outside of my 927 square feet is common space. So really, as I’m sure you would agree, dumping the papers at the elevator is not “home delivery.” Still, this was just minorly irritating and not worth complaining about until this past weekend.

Bright and early Sunday, I went out to fetch my paper. Big shocker: it was amidst a jumble a zillion feet away from my apartment, smack dab in front of the elevators. Since I had expected it to be directly outside my door, I was only wearing a T-shirt and a pair of Days of the Week Undies. My boyfriend had just told me I looked particularly hot, but then again, he’s biased and was probably wanting to get his freak on. Anyhow, I figured nobody was going to see me. I decided to could forgo the pants and make a Paper Dash.

I made it to the elevators without incident, but just as I was bending over to grab a paper, my Old Man neighbor opened his door. There I was: bent over, with “Tuesday” splayed across my dimpled ass. My T-shirt was hanging down, so I’m pretty sure he got a view of my other goodies as well. It was all Low Budget Porno. The only saving grace was that my neighbor was also wearing a less than ideal amount of clothing. He was sporting his Old Man Birthday Suit. While my view of him was upside down and through my legs, it has none the less been seared into my mind and caused extensive mental trauma. I’m sorry, but I didn’t need to see Old Man Package on an otherwise pleasant Sunday morning. Wanting to mitigate the humiliation of the situation as much as possible, I quickly grabbed two papers, stood back up and walked toward my apartment with as much dignity as I could muster. As I passed Old Man neighbor, I handed over his paper. To further compound the horror, we rode the elevator together this morning. Awkward.

I know Sunday’s Incident was partially my fault. I should not have gone pantsless during Operation Paper Retrieval. But both Old Man Neighbor and I would have been spared if your Delivery Person had done their job properly and understood the concept of “home delivery.” I acknowledge that your Delivery People have extensive routes and demanding schedules, but I still maintain “home delivery” means putting the paper somewhere within an arm’s reach of my where my property begins (aka my front door). Further, isn’t there some sort of Delivery Person Code of Ethics? Doesn’t it include things like Thou Shall Not Break Windows and Causing Flashing Incidents Is Bad? At the very least, I will remember this come Holiday Tip Time.

Please inform your delivery person accordingly.

Kindest Regards,

Katherine

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3 Responses to “What a Way to Start a Sunday Morning”

  1. restaurantrefugee Says:

    Please, oh please, tell me you sent this letter to the circulation manager.

  2. kjohnsonesq Says:

    My admin is currently putting it on Official Lawyerly Letterhead, with a few minor adjustments.

  3. Jocelyn Says:

    Deliverypeople are the bottomfeeders of the newspaper industry. Perhaps only lower are the felons working in the mailroom.

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