The Demise of Print Journalism

Tonight I had a visitor. It was the local paper delivery man. He looked haggard and beaten down. In one hand was a can of diet, caffeine-free soda (presumably because he'll have to be at work in eight hours), and in the other was a lit cigarette and a clipboard full of subscription forms.

As I opened the door, Doc lunged at him. That's what Doc does when a salesman or churchie comes to the door. He lunges. It's an endearing trait of his. Granted, Doc never bites -- only barks -- but he lunges nonetheless.

The guy started to tell me how he's been delivering the Post-Dispatch and Suburban Journals for over 30 years. He then tells me that the Suburban Journals are no longer free -- that if I wanted to keep receiving my weekly paper, I would have to subscribe.

"Good," I told him. "That thing would always go straight in the recycle bin. You can keep it."

See, I believe in honesty. Brutal honesty. Especially with salespeople. Particularly those who come to my door. That's why I told him that my employer participates in the newspapers for education program, and I can get a free copy of the Post-Dispatch, the New York Times, and USA Today in the lobby of my building five days a week. And I told him that I really don't read the Sunday paper. And then I told him what I know he didn't want to hear -- but what he needed to hear, and is probably hearing a lot:

"Also, I read the Post-Dispatch online."

He chided me for that. Chided! He told me that's not what you tell someone in his line of business. I told him I'm being up-front with him. He told me (again) that he's been delivering the paper to this route for over 30 years, and if he was blind, he could still hit the door. While this didn't impress me at all (since the Suburban Journal has not once been anywhere remotely near my door) I told him that I'd buy the Sunday paper from him for the coupons, since I do like to save money on stuff.

Then he wanted me to pay him in cash. Or by check. Or with a credit card. Right there. On my porch. Like 20 minutes ago.

I told him no thanks, and that the Post-Dispatch could send me a bill, which I would happily pay.

He persisted. I informed him that when I lived in Maplewood, the Post-Dispatch sent me a bill for a brand new subscription, and there weren't any problems with that. He said, "come on man, I'm struggling here -- I thought you were doing this for me."

Let's stop right here. If you are a door-to-door salesman, or if you are something else entirely but are somehow required to do door-to-door sales (such as a paper delivery person), and you are unlucky enough to land on my doorstep, don't insult my intelligence by trying to make the situation personal. It will make me immediately not want to buy your product and shut the door in your face.

The delivery man turned sales guy then proceeded to argue with me some more, even going so far as to say he'd wait for me, right there, on my porch, while I got my checkbook. I again said, "if the Post-Dispatch could bill me for a new subscription three years ago, they can do it now."

Then he said, "you're wasting my time," and walked away, ashing his cigarette on my porch.

Now, I know that occasionally, employees of the Post-Dispatch read this blog. Take note: I know times are tough for print media. Times are tough for everyone. Right now is a shitty time to exist, financially speaking. That being said, if you want to sell subscriptions, don't send the delivery guy door-to-door.

Your delivery guys are creepy. I know, I know, they work really hard for their money, just like everyone else. But if you're trying to drum up business, and you want to catch people while they're sitting at home eating dinner, don't send the chain smoker who has been up since 3 AM. By this time of day, he's cranky. Maybe he's always cranky. Who knows? I'm sure part of it is that he's sick of hearing assholes like me tell him that they get their news online.

And why do we get our news online? I do it because it's free. Also, it's more environmentally friendly. And it's free. And it's easy to find what I'm looking for. And it's free. And I don't have tons of newspapers piled up every day. And did I mention that it's free? No? Well, it is.

I'm sorry that print media is dying. I really am.

Actually, no, scratch that. Print media isn't dying. It is in its final death throes. But I'm still sorry. It's a consequence of progress, though. So, Post-Dispatch, if you want my help rearranging the deck chairs on your quickly sinking Titanic, don't send someone creepy to my door. It makes me like you less.