Dear Delivery Guy:
I'm not exactly certain what happened today. We've gotten along so well in the past.
Perhaps you interpreted the presence of a photo mailer in my incoming post as a threat to your masculinity. You certainly seem to have kicked its ass accordingly.
But tell me, please, WHY?
Was it the enormous red "PHOTO/DOCUMENTS ENCLOSED - DO NOT BEND" printed across the front that infuriated you so much? Did you take it as a challenge?
Or maybe you were doing me a favor, testing the extra-thick cardboard packaging for weak spots, and much to your chagrin found several.
The package you mutilated, not that it matters, contained a donation of several original pieces of artwork intended for sale in the tsunami benefit auctions I'm holding this month. All pieces are now hideously and permanently creased in the lower left-hand corner, where the edge of the package was folded in to better fit the mailbox.
What the hell made you think that if you just TWISTED the package hard enough, you could create more room in which to cram the magazine and junk mail that came with the artwork?
Your face was six inches away from the door while you were mangling my package. I was just inside. Why, Mr. Delivery Guy, WHY? Has your being out in the Minnesota cold become the cause of temporary brain damage, or is it perhaps time to consult a counselor about your anger issues?
Perhaps you interpreted the presence of a photo mailer in my incoming post as a threat to your masculinity. You certainly seem to have kicked its ass accordingly.
But tell me, please, WHY?
Was it the enormous red "PHOTO/DOCUMENTS ENCLOSED - DO NOT BEND" printed across the front that infuriated you so much? Did you take it as a challenge?
Or maybe you were doing me a favor, testing the extra-thick cardboard packaging for weak spots, and much to your chagrin found several.
The package you mutilated, not that it matters, contained a donation of several original pieces of artwork intended for sale in the tsunami benefit auctions I'm holding this month. All pieces are now hideously and permanently creased in the lower left-hand corner, where the edge of the package was folded in to better fit the mailbox.
What the hell made you think that if you just TWISTED the package hard enough, you could create more room in which to cram the magazine and junk mail that came with the artwork?
Your face was six inches away from the door while you were mangling my package. I was just inside. Why, Mr. Delivery Guy, WHY? Has your being out in the Minnesota cold become the cause of temporary brain damage, or is it perhaps time to consult a counselor about your anger issues?