There is no hope...

"There is no hope for the satisfied man"

Post founder, Frederick G. Bonfils 1861-1933

This quote appears daily in The Denver Post on the mast of their editorial page.  It's a good quote; something my own dad might have uttered to describe his entrepreneurial endeavors.  Nowadays newspaper people are more likely to proclaim that print is not dead. Millennials reply that only stalwarts read the paper.  The internet is the future and the like.

Personally I like the feel of the morning paper.  When I first came to Denver the Post still printed twice daily and the Rocky Mountain News was thriving.  I have always preferred the broadsheet format over the tabloid.  Still, there was a time I received both papers, to my doorstep or driveway in Cherry Creek.  When the Rocky got folded into the Denver Post brand, I was glad the broadsheet prevailed.  I like to snap the paper just so to hide the crossword answers and give a bit of backing for my pen.  Having sections is good too.  Sports can go straight into recycling.  The food section and Sunday Life & Culture can hang out for a few days.

For years I lived in The Springs and had their local rag delivered instead of the Post.  It was a conservatively leaning paper, so I ignored that and enjoyed the parts that spoke to me.  Local news, reading the comics with my kids, seeing if I knew anyone who had drafted a letter to the editor.  When I returned to the Denver metro area, I was lured in with a ridiculously cheap intro offer for the Post.  It worked.  First I only received the Sunday paper, then I added Wednesdays.  Now I am a daily subscriber because, dang it!  I love the crossword puzzle.  

There is an old-fashioned comfort in morning coffee and the paper.  Opening the door in winter and seeing the orange sleeve against bright new snow gives me a small thrill.  Some days I wonder when did they stop banding the newspaper and start using these sleeves which are pretty much good for nothing in the afterlife but pooper scooping.  Other times I step out onto the porch in the moonlit dawn and realize I am up way too early.  I've beaten the carrier to the punch.

Lately, I open my door to nothing.  No paper at five, or six or even nine am.  Usually I let a one-off delivery problem slide.  I can't get worked up about one or two days without my puzzle or Dear Amy.

Nowadays I have the subscriber line for the post on speed dial.  I get it.  They are having delivery problems.  Carrier issues.  But I pay for a service - up front.  In my mind, I have fulfilled my end of this agreement.  The Denver Post is struggling to honor their part.

The call center people are very nice.  I have talked to them so frequently I have their script memorized.  I know all about the escalation department.  I am assured they will inform the supervisor.  They are working on it.  Some days they ask me if I want a redelivery.  That is a non-reliable solution because often it doesn't happen.  Other days they inform me they are happily extending my subscription.  But is that a good solution if I am not getting what I am subscribing to in the now?

Perhaps there is no hope for the Denver Post.  Print may not be dead, but delivery is in a coma.  My dad used to say he'd be damned if he would let one employee ruin his business.  I'm pretty sure that Mr. Bonfils would have felt the same way.  Would the founder of the longest printed paper in the Centennial state let delivery issues dissatisfy his subscribers?  I think not.

As I typed this, I heard the thud of my redelivery hit the porch.  In some ways I feel badly.  Certainly this is not an earth shattering problem.  I'm done with my allotment of caffeine, and the gym is next on my agenda.  Today's paper won't be enjoyed in the crepuscular hours.  It will be read later in the afternoon.  Perhaps on the porch with a cuppa decaf tea in the waning sunshine of a mid-October day.

There may be no hope for the satisfied man, but this gal would be happy just to get her daily paper.

Time to Write,

Jane