For God's Sake, Return to Sender!
Dear Mr. Noonan:
I have some of your mail here. Apparently, you’ve won $10,000 dollars!!–all you have to do is call 555-432-8789. Also, a brand new car waits for you at the dealership down the street. Oh, and if you’re in need of a job, there’s a fantastic work-from-home opportunity that you don’t want to miss out on!! And if all three of those lovely, hard to believe opportunities fall through, a fail-safe pyramid scheme is reaching out to you!!! Surely one of those things will work out for you, and when it does, please let me know, because that will be the perfect goddamned time for you to invest in any of the thousands of products, services and stock options that–apparently–don’t give a shit whether or not you actually live where you say you do, or that you even exist. Do you? Exist??
I guess I can see why you wouldn’t want your mail…if this is the only mail you get anyway. Not that it isn’t fascinating reading, but–after a while–it gets repetitive. In the beginning, I was excited for you, but it’s pretty unbelievable that one person could have that many brilliant opportunities waiting for him AT THE PLACE HE NO LONGER LIVES.
I have enjoyed getting to know the lovely ladies of Maxim (though I’ve had to hide it from my hubby). You’ll be glad to know that exploitation is still as beautiful as it was whenever you lived here. But it seems to me that a more economical option for getting off is to be found in Maxim’s website, which I’ve taken the liberty to familiarize myself with under your credentials. It serves as a supplement right now, but eventually this subscription has to run out…right? I mean, don’t you have to pay for these kinds of things? Or did you once win the men’s magazine jackpot, Noonanizer?
On the other hand, I’ve been learning a lot about being a man from your subscription of Chap. I even wanted to order a gentleman’s hat, but…apparently…you have to be a gentleman to do so. You, Mr. Noonan…under the name Mr. Noonan…are not a gentleman! Customer service was quite adamant about that. Something about your temper getting the best of you? If we ever meet {you better hope we never meet, you mother fucker}, I’d love to hear that story over a pint down at the British Beer Company.
The funniest thing happened the other day…this is really gonna make you laugh, Noonies. A piece of mail, correctly addressed, to Yours Truly, was… wait for it… RETURNED TO SENDER. It seems that–unlike you–I don’t live here anymore! (Did you spell my name right, I asked them? Yes, they spelled my name right. Can we double check the address, they asked me? Yes, you can double check the address. That’s right… 69-69. No, I didn’t stutter–6, 9, 6, 9.) Don’t worry, though… They’re going to send it again. I’m sure the paycheck I should’ve received last week will turn up anytime, too. But no matter how often I mark “return to sender” on your shitty mail, it continues to show up. Isn’t that just. so. funny. ?
Listen, Nooniebugs. You haven’t lived here for over a year now. I know this, because I’ve lived here for a year–no, make that 14 months. Let’s face it: it’s time to let this address go. Emotionally, this might be painful for you. But–physically–all you have to do is download the form, fill it out with your *new* address (Very Important!), and give it to your local postal person. On second thought, they might think that’s weird considering you’ve lived there for fourteen fucking months already!!! Plan B… For only a dollar, you can choose to submit the request online, which means some other poor schmuck will download the form for you. Even better…I will gladly fill out the online form for you if it means I’ll stop getting your crappy Mail (if you can even call it that!). I just need your current address to get started on that.
Don’t worry; it’s not like I would come and find you or anything. I mean…I do think punishment should be exacted for this crime. I’m sure you think that, too. I’m sure that, like me, you’re an honest, hard-working citizen. You pay your taxes. You only drink after 5 PM. You solicit cheap sex the legal way, through magazine subscriptions. You just got busy and forgot to fill out that simple little card to tell the government where you live…You don’t deserve to be punished, Mr. N.? Do you?
About rosie
The solicitations are particularly bad when the previous tenant moved to avoid paying their student loan. For every degree in music or creative writing awarded there's a dedicated team of envelope stuffers working around the clock to remind them that they have accrued a mountain of debt for an education that will, in no way, qualify them for a job sufficient to pay it off.
The solicitations are particularly bad when the previous tenant moved to avoid paying their student loan. For every degree in music or creative writing awarded there's a dedicated team of envelope stuffers working around the clock to remind them that they have accrued a mountain of debt for an education that will, in no way, qualify them for a job sufficient to pay it off.
Regarding filing a change of address with the postal service, it might take another 14 months for that to go through … if the postal service where you live is anything like the Chicago postal service. I can't say enough bad things about them. 🙂
Oh man. Yes. Chicago is the WORST. A birthday card magically found its way to me in SPAIN with the wrong address (ftw?) yet Christmas cards arrive generally mid-February in Chicago.
As someone who has moved more than God, I can attest to the fact that the address-change service works in the following states: Boston, Texas, California, Arkansas, Missouri, Kansas, Indiana and Florida. In fact, let's just say that–overall–it works, with the exeption of Chicago, apparently. 🙂
p.s. the thing that pisses me off about mail in boston is that you HAVE to have your name on the box or they won't leave it. to me, that is just about having power. as in, they have it and we don't.
What a nightmare.
When I lived in the dorms in college we used to get mail for a girl named Skyler. And not just junk mail but like her real mail. Apparently she'd moved off campus and never updated her school address with the university. I always felt bad that her mail, marked Return to Sender, would never get to her. Until one day, almost a year later, I was in a class and we had to introduce ourselves. The girl sitting next to me? Skyler! You can be sure I straightened her out about the whole "changing your address" thing.
Thank you for the blog post. It was a really good read..