Post Notes

Post Notes

This resonates because of a similar experience I had, around that same time.  One very snowy Sunday we came back from church and discovered that our Washington Post had not been delivered.  Since we'd  passed the delivery van on the way home, I knew he'd been in the neighborhood.  I checked the neighbor's box, and it was stuffed with a WaPost.  I dropped everyone off, and went looking for the van.  When I caught up with him  I  rolled down my window and yelled, "Hey, we didn't get our paper." He responded, "Did you happen to notice it's snowing ass-hole?"   Whoa! "look, you already delivered my street and I didn't get a paper" "what's your street?" "Oak Hill" "I delivered you" "no you didn't" "Bullshit.  I have no papers left, which means I delivered you." "goddammit, no you didn't" "fuck you." He drove off.  When I got home I was way hot.  Way. I called the WaPost and told the operator what happened.  She took my number and said they'd get me a paper.  Five minutes later the phone rang, and I found myself talking with  Donald Graham, Katherine's son (and now chief executive officer and chairman of the board).  He asked me to relate  again what happened.  About thirty minutes later, a knock on the door.  It's the delivery guy, and he is now in full supplicant mode.  Gives me a paper and explains that, I dunno, his wife left him, his house burned down and he has leprosy, etc.  I generously absolved him.  Ten minutes later Don calls again.  He spends two minutes apologizing, and explaining how much they value my business, etc., and the driver has assured him this will never happen again.  I was impressed.  Still am.