HEY...up here please!"Here lies the remains
of my last paperboy.
He died by torch
when two-days in a row,
he missed my porch."
Customer service is a curious thing.
For example, delivery of your daily newspaper.
You ask that it be tossed onto your porch. Not hidden in the yard somewhere.
Not in the bushes, wet with dew. Not in the shadows, hidden from view. ON THE PORCH.
It's a simple concept: the company prints the paper each day and I pay them to bring it to me to read.
We could all go down to the paper's office to pick one up but that would be be bad on morning traffic.
I buy the product. I send the money where they want it. Odd that I would be particular about where I wanted to take possession.
After weeks of GOOD on-the-porch service, for several days I started my day roaming the front yard, looking for what I had bought.
Maybe there was a change in carriers? Perhaps the new guy made a bad decision?
Injured his or her throwing arm?
I like to think my sign is helpful. A reminder.
(Click on the photos for more detail.)
My brothers and I all were newspaper carriers when we were growing up on the peninsula.
We knew we were selling a product and a service.
And, that was before the internet.