While growing up in Manhattan, I had always heard about this type of thing, but had never seen it in person.  I had seen references to it in movies and on TV, and friends and acquaintances swear it’s happened to them, but I had always thought that they made it up as sort of practical joke on a city kid.  I had dismissed it as a myth or an urban legend—like unicorns, alligators in the sewers, or that girl that had to go to the hospital because she got a frozen hot dog stuck somewhere.

The other day, when I got home and picked up my mail, I saw an odd looking envelope mixed in with a magazine and another envelope containing local coupons.  This envelope caught my attention because it was a first-class letter sized envelope with both my address and the return address handwritten on the front.  It looked like something that a friend would send me, except that I knew of no friends with the return name or at the return address.  Additionally, it was addressed to “Joshua Madison”, and about the only people who use that form of my name are my parents and the I.R.S., neither of whom this envelope came from.

I was intrigued, but also weary.  Visions of some long lost relative who left me a million dollars danced in my head; so did anthrax.

I slowly and carefully opened it.  Inside was what appeared to be a pamphlet that had been folded to fit inside an envelope, and wrapped around it was a handwritten note.  I was so focused on whether or not the note was really handwritten, or just printed to look handwritten, that I actually didn’t read it at first.  I just felt it to see if I could feel the handwriting…and I could.  It was a real handwritten note from a stranger, addressed to me.

I started to read a bit.  The person who wrote it wanted to tell me that they were a volunteer in my area, that they were unable to reach me in person, and “was hoping to share some positive thoughts with you.”

Oh boy.

I could see where this was going, so I decided to finish the rest of it while sitting on the throne dropping some kids off at the pool.

I continued to read about how life may feel like a hamster wheel, and how you can be famous or wealthy one day and lose it all the next, but luckily, the enclosed magazine could make me feel truly successful, so successful that even if I were to lose everything I wouldn’t feel as though I’ve somehow failed.

I opened the little magazine and it was called “Awake!”.  I looked at the table of contents and noticed a very slight religious tone to the articles, such as “How Does God View Aids to Worship?”, and “Was It Designed? The Navigational System of the Butterfly”, and “Young People Ask How Can I Improve in My Prayers?”

Oh, this is so not for me.

But before I threw it out, I was curious about who really sent it.  I figured it would be the Mormons, or maybe that Scientology thing.  I looked around the table of contents but couldn’t find anything that obviously spelled out who was responsible.  I flipped the pages a bit and found the publishing information.  It was published by some outfit called, “The Watchtower Bible and Tract Society”.

“Wait, that sounds familiar,” I thought.  “Where do I know that name from?”

My mind started accessing information pathways that hadn’t been used in some time.  For some reason, the Brooklyn Bridge popped into my head, followed by a building in Brooklyn, then…

“Oh my god!  Could it be?!  Is this them?!!” I ejaculated.

As quick as I could, I got to my computer and looked it up.  It was.

IT WAS!!!

It was published by the Jehovah’s Witnesses, and this letter and magazine must be the Manhattan equivalent of them knocking on doors.  It’s really real.  Perhaps everything everyone told me, and what I had seen in movies and on TV, were real as well?  It took 35 years, but the Jehovah’s Witnesses finally made contact.

I just hope I don’t get more of this crap.

Update: Almost forgot…the return address from the envelope is about 12 blocks North from me, and I walk by it all the time, but I never knew there was a Jehovah’s Witness hall there.

It’s been 7 days since the start of the holiday season, and the US Postal Service must be loving it.  I say this because in those 7 days, 5 of which are home delivery days (I haven’t gotten the mail yet today), I’ve gotten an astounding 18 catalogs.  That’s an average of 3.6 per day.  Together they’re about 2.75 inches thick, and comprise a ridiculous 1,582 pages.

Continue reading . . . 

Forget the fact that they’re changing my zip code.  Ignore the fact that they keep changing the stamp costs while I still have a boatload of the $0.39 stamps.  Now they’re invading my private life.

I got home tonight and picked up the mail.  As is my normal practice, I had my briefcase in my hand and put the mail in the same hand without looking at it.  I do the briefcase and the mail in one hand, the left, because it allows me to use the keys in my right hand to open the vestibule door and, once I get to my apartment, my apartment door.  It’s worked very well for me for years.  Never had a problem until today.

When I hit the third floor landing, I bumped into the cute girl that seems to live on that floor.  We exchange pleasantries, and I noticed her eyes darted downward, toward my left hand.  I tried to make a little bit of small talk, and I noticed that her eyes kept darting between me and my left hand.

After saying our goodbyes, I finished the climb to my apartment.  As I was opening the door, I noticed what she might have kept glancing at in my left hand.  There, at the top of the bills and a promotion for Best Buy, was a postcard from Playboy.  It didn’t just say “PLAYBOY” on it.  No, this postcard had a naked woman on it, covered barely in appropriate places, and large letters that proclaimed that I, JOSHUA MADISON, have been “selected to enjoy PLAYBOY for just $1 an issue”.  In addition, I could also get a free DVD.

The only positive thing that can come out of a cute girl in my building seeing that postcard is that it lets her know that I don’t already subscribe to Playboy.

Playboy postcard (sorta NSFW)

That’s especially true for banks and credit card companies that I’m a customer of.

In today’s mail, I found not one, but two offers from a credit card company and a bank that I’m already a customer of.  These offers were not for additional services from the same institution, but for the very services that I already have with them.  Even more disturbing is that both of tonight’s offers were addressed to me using my formal name, the same name that I use with their institutions.

How difficult is it for them to do a simple database query that compares whatever list they use for unsolicited offers to their existing customer list?  If the names match, and the addresses match, don’t send it.  I’m sure it would save them money.  I wonder why they don’t do it?

Every now and then I get a “pre-approved credit card” offer in the mail and am always amused by the rate that comes with these cards.  In most cases it’s 10% for the first 6 months, then 25%, or worse.

Today I got one in the mail that I am still in shock over.  The APR is 9.9% but jumps to 19.9% if you miss two months, but drops back to 9.9% if you pay in full or make minimum payments for 3 consecutive months.  So far, that’s not bad.  But then I got to the fees section…holy carp!!!

Account set up fee: $29 (one time fee)
Program fee: $95 (one time fee)
Annual fee: $48
Participation fee: $72

That’s $124 just to get the card, and then $120 per year to keep the card.  They have got to be kidding.  Where’s my shredder?