Get your newspaper!

For the past few months, our household has been waging what may be called the Great Newspaper War. This was is being fought on two fronts -- on one, we are trying to rid ourselves of a free paper that, despite our repeated efforts, is deposited on our doorstep every day; on the other front, we have been endeavoring to procure another free but wanted publication that has proven to be maddeningly elusive.

The unwanted newspaper -- which we will call The Wart -- appeared without warning one day several months ago. And the day after that. And the day after that. As it carried basically the same news as our subscription paper but was not as well written (and, more importantly, had NO comics), I decided to take action.

Being of Nonconfrontational persuasion, however, I was not eager to take direct action, such as calling the newspaper offices. I might have to talk to an actual person, which I was anxious to avoid. Therefore I scoured the paper for an e-mail address to which I could direct my complaint. Now, companies know that many customers, given a choice, would rather make a complaint without talking to someone, and so they make it hard to do so. Although the paper listed, in large letters, the phone number to call to request that delivery cease, the e-mail address was printed in teeny tiny type, such that an ant would have difficulty reading it.

In my e-mail, I informed Whomever It Does Concern that we no longer wished to receive their publication. (In a fit of graciousness, I did not mention that we never had wished to receive it.) I asked Whomever to stop delivery immediately.

The next morning the paper was there again. After three days I was contemplating taking additional action, but before I could formulate a plan, it stopped coming.

"Well!" I said to Joe, satisfied. "Looks like the consumer voice prevailed after all."

My satisfaction was short-lived, as the paper showed up again just a week later. Joe's opinion was that it was easier for the driver to just throw a paper to each house rather than figure out which one of the 18 rowhouses was not supposed to get one.

I sent another e-mail. This time I praised Whomever for their prompt attention to my earlier complaint, but pointed out that the paper still came, and was still unwanted. I got no response, and the paper continued to be delivered.

I had turned my attention to the other front in the Great Newspaper War when, some weeks later, I noticed that not only was the unwanted paper not there one particular morning, none of our neighbors had gotten one either.

"Nice going," said Joe. "You canceled it for the whole block."

"Hmmph," I said. "I'm sure everyone's grateful. It was a useless paper."

But just in case they didn't see it quite the way I did, I made sure not to mention to anyone what I had done, except for Mrs. Nosy Neighbor, who was of the same opinion as I toward this particular publication.

The issue of trying to arrange delivery of the other paper -- a weekly local that ran a sometimes interesting humor column, which I admit was the main attraction for me -- demanded even more strategic planning. I politely e-mailed another Whomever, begging to be put back on the delivery route for their delightful publication. I was assured that the matter would be looked into.

Some time elapsed, but eventually The Little Paper that Could landed at our doorstep. I was delighted. Mrs. Nosy Neighbor was delighted. The other neighbors -- well, I never heard what they thought of it.

Because the next week, the paper did not come.

I let it go another few weeks before e-mailing again. Our e-mail exchange went something like this:

Me: Thank you for your prompt response to my request to renew delivery of The Little Paper that Could. We enjoyed reading it the one day that it came. Unfortunately, it has been absent ever since. Do you think you could restart delivery once again?

Newspaper woman: You are in County X. The driver generally delivers only to County Y.

Me: True, but we are in City Z, and the driver delivers to the rest of City Z. All the driver has to do to deliver to County X is to drive across Bridge A, which a turtle could easily do.

Newspaper woman: The driver greatly resents being compared to a turtle and says that if you want the paper, come over Bridge A to City Z in County Y and get it yourself. And if you make any more complaints, she'll see to it that you start receiving The Wart again. Twice a day. Sundays, too.

At least now we know the real reason for declining newspaper readership. It's all in the hands of the delivery people.