JUNK MAIL

“Mom said there’d come a day when I’d appreciate getting mail of any kind.”

Really cool junk mail

Joleen and I get junk mail all the time. I suppose everyone does. For several years I never opened the stuff. I either tore it up while walking in the door, or ran things through a shredder. That practice stopped after I accidentally shredded a $100.00 rebate check. It was in an envelope that looked like junk mail. Thankfully the company issued another.

From that point on, via Joleen’s instruction, I began the arduous task of opening and inspecting every letter and envelope before destroying. There were many envelopes I couldn’t tear in-half by hand. These items generally contained plastic cards or cellophane advertisements. Our commercial grade shredder took care of them.

Mom said there’d come a day when I’d appreciate getting mail of any kind. She went on to explain that older people, especially those living alone, long for anything to be in their mailbox. She said my grandfather reached that stage in his late 60’s. I doubted that’d ever happen to me.

I’ve opened some interesting junk mail. I don’t know how many pennies and nickels I’ve removed from envelopes and placed in my pocket. This clever tactic was used by companies, in an attempt to get people to actually read the advertisements. I took their money and ran, straight to our garbage can.

I find it interesting that some credit people know exactly what we owe. Sometimes the number is openly printed on envelopes so that the postman can see. These strangers have more insight into our debt than we do.

Many of these mortgage or loan companies offer fantastic deals to pay stuff off, at a interest rate only beneficial to them. Those items of junk mail go straight to the shredder without passing go. I take delight in hearing shredder teeth mutilate them to pieces.

Many charity organizations place free address labels in their mailouts, including small pads for jotting down notes. On rare occasion, pens can be found. Joleen once told me that if you used these items without sending a donation, it was wrong. I believe she was trying to lay a guilt trip on me. It didn’t work.

In my desk is a drawer with labels and notebooks. For people donating from the heart, stimulus gifts like these aren’t necessary to prime the pump. I choose those charities getting my money very carefully. They have to meet special criteria.

Just the other day I received a cool plastic Arizona license plate in the mail. It came from one of our local car dealers. The advertisement has my name in large letters printed on front. I’ve never seen anything like it. It must’ve been expensive to make. That thing is really cool!

This replica plate is a reminder for me to bring it, along with our vehicle, to the dealership and see what our car’s worth as a trade in. I find this very savvy marketing. You can even go online and do the same.

We have a 2009 Chevrolet HHR with 107,213 miles. I’m not quite ready to trade at this point, as our little Chevy panel still has many years left. When I do make that decision, I’ll want my plate back. Now framed, this personalized treasure hangs on my office wall.

Each day now I look forward to the mail truck stopping at our box. I know when it’s getting close because you can hear it miles away. The wreck evidently needs a muffler. I think that postal Jeep truly needs to be traded in.

Hopefully this week or next some good junkmail arrives. We’re getting low on those small notebooks, and I could really use a pen with ink. My old one’s about to die. The silver and black instrument is marked: COLONIAL PENN.

It came in an envelope that I shredded before fully reading the enclosed letter. When I asked Joleen what this company represents she told me,

“Colonial Penn sells funeral insurance.”

Well, the Penn family needs to start making arrangements, because I’m about to bury one of their kind in a Glad trash bag.

Looking back at all the junk mail I’ve destroyed, with the cost to print it and mail out, I’m sure the monetary number is substantial. The wasted paper alone undoubtedly amounts to a small forest.

It really wouldn’t break my heart if junk mail went away, taking it’s bothersome brother, Robocall, along with it!

Junk mail

Author: michaeldexterhankins

ordinary average guy

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