It's my age, I like a hard copy of the newspaper. And I like it in hand, not on some gizmo...a newspaper. Remains of a tree.
So yes, I pay through the nose to get the New York Times--the hard copy of it, daily. What joy. Like chocolate, rich and creamy writing--without the calories.
And weekends, the Chicago Tribune monster Sunday newspaper. I'd get it daily, but they keep firing reporters--especially international news reporters. Weird, like a kitchen firing the cooks. What's left? Pots and tablecloths, and not many customers.
So there I am, stuck. I want the paper, but the newspaper delivery people seem to be unable to meet their guarantee of by 6:30 AM Monday to Friday and 8:00 AM Sunday.
This morning I read on the iPad--do I cancel my subscription? Why do I pay for non-timely delivery? Plunk. The sound, my husband looks out--points to wrist (as in the soundless you are LATE). Ah, what a customer non-friendly woman--she shrugged. What does she care. Not much.
So you tell me, why not cancel?