I Think the Mailman is Reading my Magazines

If I were a mailman (and I'm not), I would read everyone's magazines while working my route. In fact, I would eat a morning danish and drink coffee while reading them. The opportunity for blatant misuse of trust would be there, and I'm not one to pass up such golden opportunities. But I would at least be secretive about it, and read the magazines carefully, so people wouldn't notice. That would be the polite thing to do.

So imagine my surprise when I received my "Esquire" magazine in the mail recently, and saw that it had already been read. The evidence was all there: pages creased from browsing, spine slightly warped, the little subscription cards oddly missing.

Gasp! I dare say I've been had, reader.

Since I live in an apartment building, my mailbox is indoors, locked and inaccessible to the general public. Therefore, the guilty party had to have been the mail carrier. But why? I could understand if it was a dirty magazine like "Playboy", or an intellectually stimulating publication like "TV Guide" or "O: The Oprah Magazine". But "Esquire"? Give me a break.

I'm not even sure why I subscribe to "Esquire". It's way too thick (ads), way too stinky (cologne ads) and promotes clothing that only Charles Dickens would wear (suede monkstrap shoes). It's definitely not my type of magazine. In fact, I don't ever remember subscribing to it.

Perhaps, during some drunken binge, I was tricked into purchasing an eight-year subscription by some magazine-selling fiend. Or perhaps a female admirer at a yacht club bought me a gift subscription, in hopes that I would become partial to the seaworthy clothing that nautical ladies enjoy.

No matter how I got a subscription to "Esquire", or how much I despise the publication, I still won't stand for this unauthorized perusing of my magazine. It's got pictures of pretty ladies in it, and I won't have such images tarnished by some mail carrier with a roving eye.

Plus, it kind of creeps me out that I don't know what the mail carrier was doing with it. I don't really want to know either, so please keep all disgusting letters of speculation to yourself.

And no pictures, either. I don’t want to see any drawings, photographs, magic marker sketches, plaster sculptures or any other artistic renderings of what you think my mail carrier was doing with the magazine. Is that clear? Okay, good. Let’s continue on with the column.

Mail people are an elusive target. How does one catch a mail person? On weekdays, they deliver the goods while I’m at work, and they come too early on Saturdays for me to be awake (three in the afternoon). I’m not about to get up early or skip work, so I’m stuck.

Perhaps I should leave a polite note for this carrier of mail. Yes, that’s the ticket. I’ll do that.

Dear mail or fe-mail carrier,

It has come to my attention that you are reading my magazine, “Esquire”. While I’m sure that you didn't mean to read it, and simply mistook it for “O: The Oprah Magazine” (which is a fine publication), I am still disappointed. You must be suave when stealing things from people, so they won’t notice and leave you annoying notes Scotch-taped to their mailbox. You see, if no one notices you touching, reading or creepily desecrating my magazine, then we’re all happy.

Perhaps you should get more practice before trying to steal things in the real world. I would suggest an internship at Microsoft, or a job selling tickets for Ticketmaster.

I hope this letter has been helpful. Please do not respond by smearing poo all over my mail.

I think that will work. If not, I guess I’ll just have to stop reading “Esquire”. Either way, I come out a winner.