Cutting the cards

It's that time of year again.

The one where I'm making last minute runs to the post office for stamps, and can't stop thinking about that Seinfeld episode where George's fiancé dies from licking envelopes.

What you're looking at is this year's crop of Christmas cards. Maybe some of you loyal readers (stops to laugh for thinking anyone's loyal, or for that matter that I have readers) will be receiving one of your own in the mail. The thing is, I can't guarantee that.

There's a master list of friends and family we send cards to. But from year to year, through a series of seemingly and sometimes actually random criteria, people get added and subtracted from the list. It's like getting a home loan, a job, knowing how planes fly or bread rises. You're never exactly sure how it happens, you just know that it does.

Then there's the picture. For years the cards have had a shot of the kids, or what used to be the kids. Now they're like our kids, except bigger and older. And they're not exactly fond of having to sit for the Christmas card picture. Again. They humor us because, after all, there is car insurance, food and college tuition in play. But frankly, they'd rather we just send out cards with a picture of a surfing Santa, a wreath or lights on a tree.

I'm hopeful that doesn't come across in the picture.

Anyway, if you get a card, you're welcome. And if you don't, it's nothing personal. Try to move past the disappointment, enjoy the holiday, have a merry Christmas, and know the odds are 50/50 you'll probably get one from us next year.

Unless you wind up on the naughty list.

FAQ this

It's become as much of an accepted acronym as LOL, OMG, WTF, SMH, IMHO, SWIDT (my personal favorite) and TBT. I'm speaking of FAQ.

It stands for Frequently Asked Questions, and you'll find a link to it on virtually every company website you visit. There you'll find the same questions every other person in your situation asks over and over, along with many no one asks. It's supposed to be a convenient way to get answers when you need them.

The operative word is supposed.

From personal experience, I think a more appropriate name for these sections would be FUQ - Frequently Unanswered Questions. More times than not, they don't even come close to addressing the issue at hand.

In those instances, I'm made to go to the contact section, where I then have to spend time tracking down a phone number to reach a voicemail thread to find an extension to leave a message for the assistant of the person who might be able to answer my question. Right after they route my call through the customer service rep in Kuala Lumpur.

Or I could just let it go. But if you know anything about me, and really, if you've been following this blog for any amount of time you should know everything about me, you know letting things go just isn't in my wheelhouse.

Usually what winds up happening is I don't get an adequate answer—meaning the one I'm looking for—and then I sit my ever expanding derriere down at the laptop and fire off a Jeff Letter to the CEO of whatever company I'm having the dispute with.

To help you get your questions answered, and because I'm a giver, here's my FAQ section regarding Jeff Letters.

Should I send my letter email?

I don't usually send an email. When I have an issue I want the top dog to take seriously, in my experience a letter on my personal stationary, sent snail mail, with a Harry Potter postage stamp seems to have more heft and impact. Emails are easily ignored. CEOs like clean desktops, they don't want hard copy letters lying around. If you're out of Harry Potter stamps, use the Star Trek ones.

How do I know they'll give me the answer I want?

I always ask for the order. I don't leave it up to them how to resolve the situation. With full bluntness and tone that lets them know I mean business but isn't overly aggressive, I ask for what I want. That way they know what I'm expecting. Most of the time it works, and many times they'll even go above and beyond to make sure they keep your business.

What do I do after they've gotten back to me?

Once they've replied in a positive manner, and taken the action I've asked for, I make a point of sending a follow up letter thanking them. They get complaint letters all the time. Complimentary ones are a breath of fresh air for them, and will help get you remembered should you have to contact them again. Besides, in letters, as in life, manners count for a lot.

Does your personal website have an FAQ section?

As a matter of fact it doesn't. I use this blog to answer most of the questions I get.

What if I can't be bothered to follow your blog?

You don't really want to hear my answer to that.

1 3 4 32 41

They're not lucky lotto numbers. They're not the numbers from LOST (silly reader, those were 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42).

No, these are the denominations of the piles of years-old stamps that have set up house in one of my desk drawers, along with years worth of free return labels from the Braille Institute, Children's Hospital and seasonally-tinged ones from the Salvation Army.

Before the post office started selling their Forever stamps - the ones immune to future postage increases no matter what price you buy them at - they used to up the rate regularly. And the only way to accommodate the new rate was to buy additional stamps to make up the price difference. Which is why the aforementioned desk drawer is lousy with unused one, three, four and five cent stamps.

When the Forever stamps arrived, self-adhesive and promotionally tied in with icons like Buzz Lightyear, James Dean and Harry Potter, the postage leftovers never stood a chance.

But it occurred to me that in my never-ending battle against clutter, piles of paper and books not organized by size or author, one mess I could easily eliminate would be these stamps that've been piling up. All I have to do is use them.

First class postage is 47 cents right now. So a 32, three 4's and a 3-center and my letter is on it's way. Of course, if you're doing the math, that's five stamps per envelope. Which is no problem if the envelope's long enough. But on the smaller one it gets a little crowded.

Using up all these stamps looks less like postage and more like a collage. If I were the recipient, I'd be very happy someone took the time to create it, and marvel at the work that went into fitting them all on there.

Unless it's one of my bills. Then I'd just marvel if the check cleared the first time.

Due due

This is going to be a bitch and moan post. It'll be a big cup of whine, with a "do you hear the violins?" chaser.

You can't say you haven't been warned. So here we go.

Sure the freelance life looks pretty glamorous from the outside, but it's actually all knuckles and know-how.

Especially when it comes to getting paid.

Regardless of what you think from reading this blog - and don't lie to me - I'm actually pretty good at this writing thing.

I'm especially good at writing invoices. I do the work, then BAM! I Quick Draw McGraw an invoice faster than you can say "payable in 60 days."

Usually when I work for an agency as a temporary employee, as I do at most places (let's have a moment of silence for the endangered 1099), I'm on their employee pay schedule, which is usually twice a month. Occasionally, once a week. By the way, nothing but love for those shops.

But on the rare occasion when I'm 1099'd, I find the payment schedule is somewhat, what's the word, erratic.

The longest I ever had to wait to get paid was four and a half months. I won't name names - Disney - but it was an absurd amount of time to get what I imagine is less money than Bob Iger spends on valet parking in a week.

Still, it's nice to know occasionally even a global company like Disney needs my help to float them. Happy to oblige.

Here's the thing: I like the companies I work for. All I'm saying is I'd like them a lot more if they showed their appreciation by saying it with cash and paying on time.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go make a phone call. Right after I check the mailbox.

Mail enhancement

I never understood all the jokes made at the expense of the post office. It always seemed to me it was more about people's impatience waiting for something to arrive more than the actual service itself.

I'm just going to come out and say it: I love the mail. I look forward to it getting here, I love using my Warner Bros. Wile E. Coyote letter opener to open it, I love going through it and I like when there's a whole bunch of it. I also like sending it out. When I seal those envelopes, even if they're bills, and I slap that stamp on it and drop it in the mailbox, it actually gives me a sense of accomplishment.

And I'll take a sense of accomplishment wherever I can find it.

Don't you think it's amazing that for 46 cents, you can mail a letter in L.A. and usually within a couple days it's being read by the person you sent it to in NY? Assuming you sent it to NY. I think it's incredible. I know it's not instantaneous like email, but I think the whole "snail mail" label is a misnomer considering what the service is.

Believe it or not, some things are worth waiting for.

Obviously my unbridled enthusiasm for the post office doesn't make me a fan of ending Saturday mail delivery. The thought of it is quite depressing. I like having the "one more day" option, which means if I'm expecting something on Friday - for example, a check - and it doesn't get here, there's always Saturday.

Only starting in August, there isn't always Saturday anymore. I can't say I'm surprised by it. In fact, I wrote an earlier post here about the decline of personal, handwritten communication. A decline that's going to eventually doom the postal service.

By the way, just so you know I'm not the only one who loves the idea of personal, handwritten letters, my friend Janice has made a nice business sending letters from Paris to people all over the world like myself, who love receiving them.

It's only $2 billion dollars standing between Saturday mail delivery and seeing it disappear. Can't the government fund that and build one less B2 bomber? Or two less drones? It just seems so correctable. More than that, it seems like something both parties should be able to agree on (pauses waiting for laughter to subside).

Besides, it would make me really happy. And since I'm an only child, I think we can all agree that's what really matters.

I have an idea I'm pretty sure would make the government take action to rescue the postal service. It's pretty simple really.

Just tell them Saturday delivery means tax forms arrive earlier.

See the problem?

Apparently it's pretty easy to get a job at a bank these days. Especially since a working knowledge of math doesn't seem to be part of the job description.

I'd overpaid my overdraft account, and Wells Fargo wanted to refund my overpayment.

Instead of sending me an email, or electronically transferring it back into my account, they sent me a check. In the mail. With a 44 cent postage stamp.

Even if I was going to feel sorry for the banks - which I'm not - they're not making it easy to.