One could imagine Ali G asking the Postmaster General, “Does you think that some paper finds direct mail a way out of the ghetto?”
Forget those ads that tout a way to get rich mailing envelopes from your kitchen table. I don’t think that has happened to anyone. But there are folks who have gotten rich in the mailing business, and I have helped some of them get there.
How does one unintentionally get into a specific industry like mailing? Someone died, that’s how.
Back in 1977 I was working for a state agency in their print shop. The mailing operation had a supervisor and a clerk. The clerk quit on Friday and the supervisor had a heart attack and died on Sunday. Monday, I told the manager of the department of my deep yet secret desire to be a supervisor at the tender age of 21.
I’ve now worked for every major mailing company in this city. My experience running the machines, supervising crews, estimating and quoting and selling and dealing with customers has helped me to be successful over the past 25 years or so. Oddly, two of the three mailing companies that I’ve left have gone out of business.
Hard work, but it’s what I know. And, I’ll likely do this until I die or retire. I don’t wish it on my sons. My daughter seems to have good sense and will likely steer clear. Why couldn’t I have been working in a bordello and the madam died?
Every mailing project is a train wreck looking for a place to happen. It’s my job to make sure the train stays on the tracks. Sometimes I’m in the way and it runs over me. I have been known to talk ugly on occasion. I’m working on that.
Anybody got something I can mail? Let’s help poor families of 60 pound offset paper out of the ghetto. A stamp is a terrible thing to waste.