Today I canceled my subscription to The New York Times. And not for political, social or otherwise astounding reasons. A few days a week someone—some heartless fucker—would steal my paper. And get away with it. In the beginning, I thought of a variety of ways to put an end to the thefts: Wake up at 6 a.m., find a hiding place, and as soon as someone picks it up, punch him (or her) in the throat. Plan B: Wake up early, put indelible blue ink on the blue plastic bag holding the paper, watch the thief grab the paper, then punch him (or her) in the throat. Also, instead of indelible ink, I considered olive oil, fish oil, lard, super glue, etc. This preoccupied my imagination to a level some would deem unhealthy.
When I began my subscription, the paper was left on the steps outside the door of my apartment building. After a few thefts, I realized that I better act quickly, so I called the Times and they told me to mail them a key to my apartment building so that the delivery guy could leave the paper on the first floor of the building (I live on the fourth). I mailed them a key, and then everything was fine—for a few days, but the Times-loving raider struck again. My next objective was clear: get the paper delivered to my apartment door. That wasn’t easy! Several weeks and five-or-so calls later, it happened: a dark-blue plastic bag with today’s news showed up right in front of my door one fine morning. It was short-lived. The delivery guy—probably a pawn in the greater conspiracy orchestrated by that thieving heartless fucker—often delivered the paper to only the first floor and sometimes just left it on the stairs outside of the building. I called the Times, made empty threats saying I’ll cancel my subscription, but I had no plans to cancel it. All I had were twisted fantasies involving indelible ink and throat punching.
But I slowly began to crack. To cancel or not to cancel? I agonized over that question on so many levels for so many weeks. The paper is great to read on the subway, I don’t like to read from a computer monitor, and home delivery, albeit with gaps, is great. On the other hand, I can get it for free online, I’m tired of having ink-smeared hands, and this random thievery steers my mornings in the wrong direction. Will I get the paper today? That’s no way to live. And lastly, as a writer/journalist, I didn’t want to cancel the paper because that would mean a complete surrender to the Internet and admittance of the fact that a printed newspaper is no longer necessary. My only solace after this traumatic experience is that I still read the print edition of The New Yorker—in conjunction with reading it online. Also, it’s nice to know that The New Yorker can fit in my lock-protected mailbox.
January 9, 2007 at 6:11 am |
I actually did overcome the Times-thief problem with the use of some fishing line and 3 hours. Finally, my next-door neighbor, unaware that the day’s copy of the paper was attached to mini-gong in my kitchen, tried to swipe it from in front of my door. I ran out of the house, assumed an attack-crouch position and snarled, “What the fuck is going on here?” He dropped my paper, and in shock/fear closed his door in my face.
Haven’t had a problem since.
January 9, 2007 at 6:27 am |
I too had the same problem. My landlord would not give me another key, so I decided that I’d start with a note and if that didn’t work, an early morning stakeout since I determined my paper was disappearing between the hours of 7-7:30am. I think I caught my thief one morning, because after I saw the suspect, my paper stopped disappearing for about a week. Then I left a nice note which I keep on my desktop should I ever need it again: “Papers delivered here are NOT free. Please stop taking newspapers that do not belong to you.”
It seems to have worked
January 9, 2007 at 6:31 am |
dear sir, with great pleasure i admit that i am that “heartless fucker” who stole your new york times. Granted, the round-trip ticket from SF to NY was a bit more pricey than the actual piece of movable print (do they have those in nebraska by the way?), regardless, i paid not for the paper but for the pleasure of seeing your well molded face contort as if rodin himself was shaping every muscle, vein and wrinkle. Whats more, my poor tortured soul, i’ve attained a job as customer service representative at new york times, though it was not easy, and fed you lies regarding your “rights” as a customer. My favorite lie, for which you fell faster than a well lubricated hooker on ice, was the one regarding the key to your household. Did you seriously think that sending your key to complete strangers will SOLVE your theft problem? i’m surprised Stabs hasnt taken your computer… as well as your life. Stabs is the guy to whom i gave your key. I found his phone number in a bathroom of some bar — and you bet your precious little paper the bar was sleazy! The inscription, obviously carved with a knife, read, “My daddy gave me a knife at age of 7 and told me to never look back. Call 555-5874 if you…” then the carving just cut the wall almost all the way down to the floor, on which Stabs was comfortably sleeping in what i can only guess was blood. I gave him a little nudge, he swung at me, i dodged and our friendship was born. If i were you, id worry about Stabs rather than the paper. No, but seriously, do they get papers in nebraska? maybe we should start a business: Nebraska Corn Times. You write and ill deliver, i already know how, i got experience from delivering new york times from in your area. Speaking of that, im late for work.
January 9, 2007 at 9:19 am |
Boo hoo hoo. The world is a better place with one less newspaper reader. Just read the thing online.
January 10, 2007 at 6:31 pm |
[...] student of mine writes about canceling his New York Times subscription. It’s not a tale of business but of crime. [...]
January 10, 2007 at 8:37 pm |
At the micro (individual) level, this can be viewed as a purely personal issue (and elicit the People Magazine kinds of responses like Zeyad’s patronizing “of course there are problems — move up to Century 21″ or Rustam’s frustrated-novelist novella.
But for newspapers, with whom we’ve worked as consulants, the macro problem made up from many of these individual cases is a real long-term concern: there is increasing urbanization and, within that, fewer and fewer detached dwellings. This greatly increases the complexity of delivering physical items securely — they aren’t allowed to use mailboxes, it’s too expensive to install their own secure facilities, the cost of delivery personnel is going up at a time when cost-cutting is a major focus, and petty thievery is much more broadly accepted as a “reasonable” behavior because of the anonymity of urban dwellers, so physical security (versus personal notes or other neighborly approaches) is more necessary.
The future is one of newstand sales, office distributions, and other local distribution sites — these are cheaper than home delivery but they aren’t as stable because of fewer subscriptions. We’re heading back to the news hawker on the corner at a time when the market values stable long-term projections for costs and revenues.
January 11, 2007 at 1:18 am |
[...] to mention theft-prone: “I didn’t want to cancel the paper because that would mean a complete surrender to the I… Newspapers [...]
January 11, 2007 at 2:21 am |
I’ve never subscribed to the paper for the mere fact that I’d always be worried about it disappearing. It’s already an issue here in my building as the papers are left at the entrance to the building, available for anyone to get them. Sometimes papers are delivered for people for weeks after they’ve moved. It’s a great way to get a glance at what’s above the fold as I’m walking out the door to work, but I’ve all but given into reading several papers online before I head out.
The hope of entering the realm of freelance journalism makes me upset that I do not subscribe. But the ability to read most of the paper without the ink and the hassle of whether or not there will be one waiting for me is worth it.
January 18, 2007 at 12:10 pm |
I hate to say this as a journalist myself but we should face facts: the days of the folding paper newspaper may be numbered!
John E. Carey
http://johnib.wordpress.com/
October 24, 2007 at 7:53 pm |
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