On Being a PIA

Back when Columbus had two newspapers, I got them both. The Citizen-Journal came in the wee dark hours of the early morning, and the Dispatch arrived in time for after work reading. The CJ folded in the eighties, and I mourned for it, and the Dispatch changed to a morning paper. I dearly love newspapers. When we travel, Stu knows to humor me in my daily search for a local paper. I'll even read USA Today if there just isn't anything else. When we were newly married and even poorer than churchmice, we got $5 each pocket money every week, and mine went for the daily paper until I decided it wasn't realistic to pretend any longer that it was a luxury that didn't fit the budget. For me, the paper is a necessity, and I prefer it in paper form. Of course, in order to justify it I had to give Stu a raise to $10 pocket money a week, but I kept mine at five to be fair.

But I'm a picky old lady, and I like my morning paper in the morning, particularly in time to read it with my morning tea and breakfast before I go to work. The individual who currently delivers my paper doesn't grasp this at all. Despite a Dispatch-imposed deadline of 6:30 on weekdays and 8am on weekends, my paper shows up some time after I leave for work at 6:50, and has gotten here late enough on a Sunday that I had to finish it at four in the afternoon. Well, as a picky old lady, let me just say that this isn't sitting very well. I've had to buy one on the way to work lately (and let me just point out that I'm really not supposed to read the newspaper at work--I'm supposed to be working) thereby paying for it twice. If I wait until evening, not only is the News very Old, but I don't have time for it anyway.

So I called a couple of weeks ago and complained, but it didn't do any good. I got a woman on the phone who was deeply weary of her job, and responded like an automaton reading from a script, which she doubtless was. Reading from a script, I mean, not an automaton. Although it was hard to tell. In any case, it failed to have an effect on the paper delivery person, who continues to show up at some unknown time.

I did have this problem once before. When we moved into this neighborhood a little over ten years ago the newspaper had been carried by the same family for many years--kind of a delivery mafia. They had many children, all blonde and charming, and when one grew up and left home the route was just passed on to the next oldest in line. That's all well and good, but until it got to the very youngest a few years ago, none of them were capable of delivering on time. Some people would get offended by this comment, but I'll make it anyway--the problem seemed to be rooted in the fact that this enormous family was home-schooled, and they really had no concept of "schedule". Or at least, no concept that anybody else might have one. So I had years of late newspapers, and no amount of complaining, cajoling, or anything else did any good. I just had to wait it out until the last yellow-headed youngster left the nest a couple of years ago and an adult took over.

So this latest guy took over in July, and he appears to be an adult too (it's very dark out there, but he's a pretty good size and drives, which may or may not be an indication, and he's clearly past high school because when he does arrive it's after the bus goes). My question is: Just how much of a pain in the arse should I be over this? Granted, I shouldn't have to pay for two papers daily when I only read one, but it's my choice to do this. I could just suck it up and accept going through withdrawal like a grown-up. And it's not like I actually pay for service. The paper is the same price delivered or picked up. On the other hand, he is getting paid for providing the service, and he's not providing it in a timely manner. And on still another hand, he may have extenuating circumstances out the whazoo, in which case I would be willing to just cancel my subscription since I'm fetching it myself anyway. Or he may just be a slacker and needs a fire to be lit in an appropriate place. But I can't tell that from here, and the automaton was no help at all. And is it fair to keep calling and complaining when I didn't do that to the Blonde Mafia? I did see them in person, however, and let my feelings be known, probably a little too gently, when they came to collect. Nobody collects in person any more though, it's all done by mail.

I am well aware of my propensity to be anal about some things which are doubtless trivial, and to fail to be anal about things that probably need attention, so I'm really waffling over this. How much fuss should I make over what is actually a luxury item, even though it happens to be my personal favorite luxury item ever? I need a sense of perspective on this, and I don't have it. All I have is irritation and fewer quarters. Any advice, people?

Love and Bruxism, Spud.