Hold My Mail, Please!
By Michael Antonoff
Dear U.S. Postal Service:
I just received my first email showing what will be coming to my letterbox later in the day. You call it Informed Delivery. I call it a leg up. The scans of the fronts of envelopes are serviceable — I’m eyeballing 200 dots per inch (300 would be better), though the lack of contrast when black text is printed on gray envelopes leaves me scratching my head. In any case, I look forward to receiving my personalized email everyday barring Sundays and postal holidays. By the way, would you mind if I call you USPS? I know it’s confusing because it sounds like UPS, but it’s faster to address.
Dear Bed, Bath & Beyond:
I highly anticipate receiving your oversize postcard offering 20% off on my next purchase. I will add it to the card received yesterday and the one received the day before that. However, I was hoping for a $5 off card instead since the only item I expect to buy on my next visit is a roll of string. I plan to use it to tie up a year’s worth of your cards and circulars and return them so you can recycle the lot to new customers. Just change the expiration dates.
Dear Bank of America:
I’m extremely excited by your offer of $400 if I open a new checking account as stated on the outside of your envelope. I truly hope I won’t be disappointed as I was last time when I opened the envelope to discover I’d need to deposit at least $1,500 to start, and have my weekly paycheck deposited directly into the account. You can understand that if I had $1,500 and a full-time job, I’d take you up on your offer in a New York minute. Is the bank hiring?
Dear Netflix:
I’m so happy that another DVD will be arriving at my doorstep today. I must tell you that the last one I sent back was a real stinker. Anyway, please don’t assume that tonight actually will be “Movie Night!” Your graphic declares as much every time the Post Office informs me a red envelope will be arriving in the mail. Frankly, if every night was Movie Night (hold the exclamation point), I’d never get any sleep. Or have the time to stream Amazon Prime. Or watch Rachel Maddow. Or stream your own service. Just between you and me, Netflix, your discs sometime sit unopened for weeks. So please stop insisting it’s Movie Night when it’s more likely laundry night.
Dear [Insert Name of Cable Company]:
I just read your teaser to lower my monthly bills through your exclusive offer and can hardly contain my gratitude for showering me with continued enticements to switch cable companies. Did you know that you are just one of three cable companies in my apartment building competing for my TV, phone and broadband business? That’s amazing since most consumers get only one choice. Nothing makes me happier than seeing scans of your presorted mail. But I wonder, is this really your best offer?
Dear Ms. Linda Lillygood:
I see that you’ve mailed me what looks like another holiday greeting card. It’s a thoughtful gesture, and I will always cherish our friendship. But know this: I will not be reciprocating. I stopped mailing holiday cards when I realized I sent them only because people were sending them to me. Tit for tat doesn’t exactly capture the holiday spirit. However, when the time comes (April 24th), I will gladly accept birthday cards. Feel free to stuff them with Instant Scratch-offs.
Dear Pine Lawn Cemetery:
Thank you for sending your solicitation in the form of a tasteful postcard and stating on the same side as my address that everything I need to know about reserving a plot is contained on the other side. I can’t wait to turn it over. While I understand that future peace of mind begins by planning now, today is not it. I just buried my mother and am still waiting for her stone to be engraved. In my case, though, rather than sending me future invitations to purchase a plot, I have one word: cremation, scattered ashes. Okay, three.
Dear USPS:
Now that I’ve been getting Informed Delivery for several months, I’ve decided to cancel the service. It’s not that I don’t appreciate knowing what’s coming. Clearly, my day is made less stressful knowing that there won’t be any bills to pay today. But here’s the thing. Informed Delivery isn’t all that informative. All it does is reinforce the notion that 90 percent of my mail is destined for the trash. I must give you folks credit, though. You figured out a way to turn old-fashioned junk mail into even more digital spam. Just what I needed.
