Oddly, my newspaper delivery and a bank call made me feel nostalgic.
Our newspaper deliverer called us Sunday night, leaving us a message on the answering machine that the Times Union had altered the delivery route and that they wouldn’t be delivering for us starting Monday morning. They asked us to call them back, but I didn’t initially have a chance.
On Monday, the paper was delivered to the sidewalk curb. Tuesday’s paper made it to the sidewalk, and Wednesday’s was on the edge of the grass near the sidewalk.
I called our previous deliverer, who was always gracious and promptly got the paper to us, barring a blizzard or TU production problem. They got shifted to a downtown route with a day’s notice.
I called the Times Union circulation number – a lovely one, BTW, 518 454-5454 – about the new less-than-useful delivery person. Surprisingly, I got to a Real Person after a few automated options.
I noted that the previous folks had always delivered the paper to the porch. Then, I stated that I had delivered papers as a young teen – Binghamton’s Evening and Sunday Press – and that I always threw them on the porch. (This is technically not true; sometimes, they wanted the paper between the front and the screen doors or in a milk carton, and I would accommodate that. BTW, I can still fold and toss a weekday newspaper.)
The TU representative agreed with my assessment and put the information in a portal where the new delivery person would see it. Sure enough, our papers landed on the porch subsequently.
Bank call
On the same Wednesday, my bank’s branch manager called me to see if I had any questions or issues. I had assumed he was calling about a problem or to get me to utilize a different bank product.
Nope, he just wanted to know how things were going. I was fascinated that he knew I was a bank customer three acquisitions ago, in February 1978!
I did have one question. Why can’t I get one-dollar bills from the ATM? The answer is that I can, but only through the drive-through ATM. It reminded me of the drive-throughs I’ve used in New Paltz and Schenectady, when I had to avoid the motor vehicles gingerly.
He did want to see my DMV card because the one they had on file had expired years ago. I didn’t recall I had given the bank that info. Later, I walked to the branch and showed the guy the info. I shared with him that I worked at that 1978 antecedent, but quit, because I took a job at the Schenectady Arts Council. I went from making $6,000 to $8,200 per year. Also, I wouldn’t have to spend an hour trying to find why I was a nickel off.
Some days, I wonder what happens with my days. Sure, I play Wordle, Quordle, and Connections, make breakfast, write a blog post, load or empty the dishwasher, work on getting speakers for the library, pay bills, and try to keep up with the news. But where does the REST of the time go? On that particular day, I was engaging in a bit of nostalgia.