See You Next Sunday

It is the dreaded question that always comes up eventually during any conversation with someone I've just met. "So, what exactly do you do for a living?" It is a question that is very hard to answer without further reinforcing the incorrect stereotypical images that the American public holds when you inform them that you earn your living as a newspaper carrier.

For the typical American choosing to be a newspaper carrier is akin to being a derelict: a person who must be bereft of intellectual skills, personal responsibility, or aspirations. I've seen that awkwardness exhibited once I tell someone what my profession is. They might shift from foot to foot, or they might have that vacant look in their eyes that almost cries out about how embarrassed they are for me. If they only knew what it is really like to do our job well.

We are not young people who deliver a handful of newspapers by bicycle or on foot to a small number of customers in some suburban home development. In reality, newspaper delivery is increasingly handled by adults, who manage large and diverse routes. They often take on routes as a spare job in addition to their normal forty hour a week job. Carriers come in all ages, and from all walks of life. I've worked side by side with school vice-principals, bankers, musicians, college professors, and many other very smart and well educated people.

The job requires an ability to be nuanced. My job in particular requires managing relationships between the newspaper and the public, with both residential and commercial clients, as well as store accounts, vending machines, and corporations in and around Wasco County Oregon, each of whom have different needs to serve. The job also requires a strict attention to detail, physical fitness, and emotional resilience.

It also depends greatly on one's ability to adapt to ever-changing conditions. Very much like the post office, we must be vigilant with our duty, and as Herodotus once said, "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds"; the difference being that the postal carrier in the United States only works 6 days a week and has as many as sixty-three days off each year, enjoys a handsome benefits package, a pension, and also commands the respect of the community for being a postal carrier. Paper carriers on the other hand, particularly the publication for which I serve, work 365 days a year, whether there is a holiday or not! For example, I often work on Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve, and Labor Day. We are independent contractors, thus we are not entitled to a wage, a pension, or even a day off. If we want a day off,we have to hire someone at our own expense to fill the position in our place.

No matter what the weather is, the paper must be delivered. Three feet of snow? The paper must be delivered. Ice? The paper must be delivered. Blinding fog, thick sheets of rain, sweltering heat? There is nothing that may permit the paper from not being delivered.

It is a job that requires a person who loves bathing in darkness. We work nights, exclusively. Most of the year we will go to work after the sun has set and return before the crack of dawn. We've been up for hours when the orchardists and farmers finally fire up their equipment. While the rest of the world sleeps peacefully in their beds we are prowling the streets of the city and the lanes of the curving country highways.

Occasionally we have to cope with a friendly drunk who has crawled into our van as we delivered a paper, or the emotionally troubled man who has us gripped in his hands and repeatedly begs to know, "Where is the dog of war? I need the dog of war! Do you know where I can find him? Can you take me there?" Sometimes we even face violence. I've been verbally dressed down by a thoroughly frustrated customer who failed to notice he had purchased the previous day's copy of the newspaper before I had arrived at the rack, through no fault of my own. All I can do is nod and swallow my pride. There has been worse. There was once a college professor, who after he had received his copy ten minutes late chased the carrier's in his car, and waited for them the carrier to emerge before striking them unaware with a forcefully thrown paper to the chest. Meanwhile, he berated the carrier as if they were nothing more than a foolish house pet even as the poor exhausted carrier descended into tears of apology.

You must be wondering by this moment, why in the world would anyone go through such an ordeal? Well, believe it or not, there are moments that I enjoy as a carrier that I'm not sure I could receive from any other career. For instance, there is the pride of knowing that if you can flourish while performing as a newspaper carrier, nothing can break you. You will invariably encounter every imaginable challenge. If you are someone who enjoys providing information to others, as I do, then delivering a newspaper with the potential to inform someone with a pivotal piece of information about the weather, cooking, prices, world events, entertainment, and business is a particularly lovely treat.

I've enjoyed the pleasure of seeing an aging senior citizen smile warmly while receiving the paper; my visit and the newspaper being the highlight of her day. I've witnessed a proud grandparent shed tears when they obtained a copy that held a story that recognized an achievement of a loved one. I've heard the pride in a couple's voice as they explained that they will treasure the current edition because it features their wedding announcement, or the choked voice of a friend,or family member who learned that someone special to them had passed away. I've also felt the solemn sense of duty that comes when you give someone a copy that tells them something a bit more about what their loved one is fighting and dying for during the course of their military duty. As challenging as this job can be it is never bad enough that I will be unable to enjoy the moment when I deliver the edition of the newspaper that informed a loving family that their loved one will finally be coming home. In that moment, my job is worth more than the money I'm paid. In that moment, being a newspaper carrier is worth more than the blood, sweat, tears, and frustration that it may cost.