I recently came across this bit I wrote in college. Made me laugh, so here you go.
No, I’m not
talking about giving birth. I’m talking
about The Wall Street Journal. I recently began receiving this wonderful
publication when a subscription to it was strongly recommended to me by my
marketing professor in exchange for a passing grade in his class. I immediately agreed to these terms and gave
the bill to my dad.
The Wall Street Journal comes
once every business day. Really, really
early every business day. Sometimes it
is so early that it gets here yesterday. Punctuality for this organization does not
seem to be a problem.
The impressive
thing about The Wall Street Journal
is the customer service. If you think a
retail store lacks customer service, be thankful The Wall Street Journal doesn’t run the place. They take the concept to a whole new level.
The first day I
received The Wall Street Journal,
it came folded in my mailbox. The next
day it was waiting for me in the driveway.
On the third day, it was also in the driveway, but encased in a bag. Where it got crazy was the fourth day. I woke up and discovered a mint on my
pillow. Startled, I sat up…to find the
paper on a tray next to my bed…with a steaming cup of doctored coffee…and a
Danish…all accompanied by a handwritten note that read, “Enjoy!”
While convenient,
the polite intrusion was still very unsettling.
However, this perk was easy to grow accustomed to. The nice invisible people of The Wall Street Journal were
doing their best to make sure that I got the most out of my subscription.
One night after
class, I was heading to my car to go home after a long day. As I put the keys in the door lock, I felt a
sharp jab in the small of my back. While
inexperienced in such matters, it did not take a genius to conclude that this
was the business end of a handgun. I
froze as a gruff voice commanded, “Give me the keys and be quick about it.”
What happened next
is hard to describe. There was the sound
of a painful grunt and an aborted cry.
Then there was a soft thud and a quick flurry of movement. I still had not moved, and was very
frightened, to say the least. After the
movement subsided, there was silence for a moment, and then a piece of paper
came fluttering down onto the hood of my car.
I picked it up and read, “It’s safe.
Have a nice night and sleep well!”
I slowly turned around and saw my would-be assailant on the ground about
ten feet away, hog-tied and gagged. Not
that it mattered, because he was out cold.
Until then, I didn’t know that The
Wall Street Journal included tae
kwan do in the training for delivery people.
After a couple
more weeks, another unexpected event occurred.
It was a cold November morning, and I was getting ready to head to
work. As I approached my car, I noticed
that the windows were scraped and the engine was running. I slowed my stride and took a cautious glance
around the neighborhood as I opened my car door. The heater had already done its job. I cleared the seat of the packed lunch (!)
and took my seat behind the wheel. I
noticed the note, timidly picked it up, and read, “Have a wonderful day.”
I guess you could
say that I’m really enjoying my mysterious subscription to The Wall Street Journal.
The birthday presents (a La-Z-Boy and bigger coffee mug, for a more
enjoyable Wall Street Journal
reading) were a nice touch. The oil
changes don’t go unnoticed. It doesn’t
even bother me anymore that I still have yet to meet the delivery person. What bothers me is how this nice, caring and
thoughtful stalk- uh, person (and his employer!) is going to take the
news. You see, I’m finally canceling my
subscription to The Wall Street
Journal…due to the fact that I’ve never sat down and read it.
What's the best/creepiest customer service you've ever received?
.
