Rant #451: My Paper, Where Is My Paper?

I still enjoy reading the newspaper in the morning as I eat breakfast and prepare for my day.

I love poring through the pages--starting with the sports section, of course--and reading what is going on in my world.

I love getting the paper delivered to my home, because this way, I can have it at my doorstep before 5:30 a.m.

I don't have my newspaper today, and I am sad.

The paper was not delivered to my home by 5:30, and the fact of the matter is, I still don't have it, and it is some time afterward.

This is not a rare occurrence. For some reason, starting about six weeks ago, the newspaper is either not being delivered or it is coming very, very late.

I have complained about this, and I have been told that delivery is GUARANTEED by 5:30 a.m.

Funny, it is beyond an hour past that time, and I don't have my newspaper.

I have told the customer service representative that I will stop my subscription if this continues.

Of course, I told them that two weeks ago, I started getting the paper at an earlier time, but it has gotten progressively worse, leading up to today, when I don't have my newspaper.

I don't want to hear excuses--I want my morning paper.

And no excuse is a valid one. You see, about 16 years ago, I was an adult newspaper delivery person, working overnight to get the daily newspaper to subscribers.

I needed money to supplement my income, and then, when I lost my job, I need the job to live. It didn't pay much, but at least it kept me in groceries for the week.

I delivered the New York Times seven days a week, and later the New York Post, too.

I delivered in all different weather conditions, including the massive snow we received early in 1995.

I also delivered the newspaper around the birth of my son that year.

It was the hardest, easiest job I ever had. However, the hours screwed around with my body. It is hard to go to sleep early, wake up after a few hours, go to work, and then come home and go to sleep for a few hours.

But I did it, for more than a year, until I got my current job.

Anyway, through all this, I still don't have my newspaper.

Woe is me!