The Progress Bulletin delivered to my house the number of newspapers that had been assigned to my route each day. Sometimes I would receive a cancellation notice because a subscriber had called the newspaper and decided they didn’t want the paper any more. Most of the time, I received new subscription notices telling me that someone had called the newspaper and decided to subscribe. So each day the papers were provided to me based on the number of subscribers on my geographical route.
At the end of the month, I received a bill from the Progress Bulletin for the number of newspapers received each day. My job was to “collect” the subscription every month and use some of that money to pay the Progress Bulletin for the newspapers. As I remember the subscription for a month of porch-delivered newspapers was $5 and I paid the Progress Bulletin somewhere around $2 a month for the actual newspapers. So for a month’s worth of work I made $3. Times that by an average of 30 subscribers and I could make $90 a month—serious cash in 1982 for an 11-year old. Now let’s not spend any time coming up with an “hourly wage” for this enterprise.
I was given a ledger book that I used to keep track of who had and hadn’t paid their subscription each month. At the beginning of each month, I had to make my monthly trip to each subscriber’s house to collect the subscription. I hated “collecting” not because I didn’t want the money, but because I had to drop by some of my subscribers' homes several times to finally find them at home and willing to pay me.
Why didn’t the Progress Bulletin allow subscribers to pay monthly to the newspaper and then just pay me? Too much paperwork and added employees, I suppose. Plus they wanted us to have the opportunity to receive tips for our great service.
Alas, it was my lot each month to try and collect me subscription money. Many of my subscribers were easy to find at home and more than willing to pay their $5—cash or check—with an extra $1 or $2 for my wonderful service. These subscribers were the ones I liked, always friendly and appreciative and willing to pay their bill. But of my 30 subscribers there were always at least 6 who were your worst nightmare! These were the subscribers who were never home or who never had the money/checkbook when you came around to collect the bill.
These select subscribers became the bane of my paper route. Over time these subscribers showed up in my ledger book as not having paid for several months despite repeated attempts to collect my hard-earned money.
The ones who never paid would eventually get caught with money in their wallet or the checkbook handy. In those rare instances, I would ask for payment for several months of delivery. It was a windfall! The newspaper gods were merciful on those days. I had collected a debt that I figured would go unpaid. Why didn’t I just quit delivering the paper to these deadbeats? I don’t know; they were the same houses that had several days’ newspaper on the porch at any given time. They didn’t value the newspaper and my delivery service and saw no reason to pay for it. I should have seen the folly and just “fired” my bad subscribers. I was a glutton for punishment holding out hope that they would pay me for what I did.
Then along came the 1985 movie Better Off Dead starring John Cusack to make “collecting” an even more terrible experience. I have never seen this movie, but have read the plot summary and know one line from the movie by heart—“I want my two dollars!” This timeless line from the movie became a favorite joke at several subscribers’ homes each month when I came “collecting”. Here is the typical scene:Teenage son answers door, sees me, and shouts to parent “Mom/Dad the paperboy is here!” Teenager turns back to me and says “Have you seen that movie where the paperboy is always coming by the house and saying ‘I want my two dollars’?” This was always followed by teenager’s laughter. Keep in mind, I was 14 by now and was as old as many of these teenagers answering the door. The dialog was meant to be demeaning and I knew it. It was a veiled way of saying “You are the biggest loser I know.”
So now I had two types of subscribers to endure—the ones who would never pay and the ones who paid but had kids my age who made me feel like cow dung.
I never tried to expand my paper route’s penetration rate. I was content pocketing $90 a month for delivering papers to my 30 subscribers. Never once did it occur to me that I was riding my bike past 90 percent of the homes on my route each day because they were “non-subscribers”.
Looking back if I had spent just a little time trying to attract new subscribers I could have made more money for no more physical exertion. Then again how many of those new subscribers would turn out to be deadbeats or have teenage kids that made me feel like trash? It is a question that will go unanswered. I am not an entrepreneur looking to expand my fortune. I am a servant willing to fill the needs of others when solicited.
Even now as an accountant who bills clients hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees a year I hate making those “collection calls”. Those dreaded phone calls to discuss with a client why a bill has gone unpaid for months after the services were rendered. Luckily, I mostly have great clients who recognize the value of the services rendered by me and my firm and willingly pay for those services in a timely manner. But there are still those few clients who make me feel like I am 14 again. Please dear client, “I want my two dollars!”
1 comment:
I enjoyed this blog about the arcane world of a newspaperboy/ girl (props to Winnie). Now that I've had the insider's story, I never want to be relegated to this job nor suffer my offspring (if they're in my future) to have such a laborious job!!
Post a Comment