This Beacon Is Not A Ray of Hope...

This Sunday's paper had a plethora of coupons in it.  Almost a Christmas in April...complete with snow.  There were two Smartsource inserts and two Red Plum inserts, enough to pacify my addiction for at least several days...if I could only get my hands on them.

For the second weekend in a row, my newspaper delivery person (and I use the word "delivery" loosely) has failed to deliver my second Sunday edition of the Tribune (I am supposed to get two copies delivered on Sundays).  He (or she) instead likes to leave me The Beacon in place of the Tribune...a paper to which I have never had a subscription nor do I want one (and why would I when I keep getting it for free?).  It's almost like the Beacon is his fall-guy.  If he can't remember what paper I get...he just throws the Beacon out there to take one for the team.  Does he really think The Beacon will pacify me and I will forget his many shortcomings as a paper delivery person?  He doesn't know me at all...

In case you are wondering, these mis-delivery occurrences aren't just reserved for a Sunday assault on my coupons.  They usually occur at a rate of about every third day.  I don't tend to care too much about the others, as they don't tend to have around $100 dollars stashed in the advert section, but I have begun reporting them since they are no longer isolated instances.  Sometimes he will redeliver the paper, sometimes he won't.....and sometimes he will leave me another Beacon...

This Sunday he again failed to leave my second copy of the Tribune.  When I looked out the window and saw only one had arrived,  I felt an overwhelming sense of anger and resentment towards my delivery person.  Don't they know it is Sunday???  For Pete's sake, it's like Santa doing a drive-by and forgetting to toss the presents down the chimney!   

Now I was going to have to attempt to get a redelivery of the Tribune and this involves making a phone call (sometimes several) to a far off land (and I'm not talking the North Pole).  I could only hope all my dialing wouldn't result in another Beacon.  Now I do not mean to offend, but I hate when I call for assistance and my phone call gets transferred to a call center several thousand miles away.  I ask you, how the heck is it helpful to talk to someone in a completely different country about a paper that I am supposed to get delivered in Illinois?  I want to talk to someone in Illinois about my paper in Illinois, is that too much to ask?!?!?!  They don't give a hoot about my paper and my yearning for coupons.  They probably think I am some loon.  Far fetched?  Maybe not...but I digress.  They just calmly recite their pre-formulated responses, assure me one will be redelivered in an hour and send me on my way.

Well, this Sunday I demanded someone call me back.  Low and behold, the phone rings and the area code says"312", could it really be???  Someone who lives in Illinois is calling about my paper in Illinois???  I was more than willing to discuss my unfulfilled delivery needs.  I was like a nutter-butter on a therapist's couch.  I went on and on and on and on about my paper and the missing coupons.  I told him all about my delivery person's shortcomings and I believe I even used the word "inept"  A little much?? Possibly.  But they are my coupons and I want them now...

This morning this was attached to my paper:

Now, I have already drawn the conclusion that my delivery person is, in fact, a total idiot.  But come on, really?  Do you think I am going to believe that someone is stealing my paper and leaving a Beacon in it's place?  Or better yet...replacing my redelivery with yet another Beacon?  

Does he really think this insert is really going to restore my faith in his delivery capabilities and make me reconsider the fact that he isn't screwing up my morning papers, but that they are being stolen by a Beacon-wielding thief???  I can only conclude that he is far dumber than I had first thought.  But as my father-in-law says, "It doesn't take all kinds, there just is."  No truer words have ever been spoken.