The next time that you receive a piece of mass mail in your mailbox, I want you to hold it in your hands. I want you to caress it, and turn it over, and draw your finger along its edges. I want you to admire the way that it has been sealed with care for your benefit.
Because if you are thinking that the company that sent it had a machine do all the work, then you are wrong.
YOU ARE WRONG.
The possibility exists that the company that sent you that piece of mass mail did so via their temp-receptionist, a girl in a pencil skirt with a very expensive education and many questions about her potential. She might be wearing high heels that are running her rapidly down the road toward bunions. Perhaps she is working on a countertop surface that is unusually low, and therefore, bending at the waist to seal each envelope.
And then reinforcing the seal with Scotch tape, since the glue isn’t doing it’s job.
She might have close to 200 booklets to weigh individually, since they are of varying sizes. This may take her several hours – hours of carefully NOT bending the corners of the booklets, and carefully NOT putting the letter in the wrong envelope, and carefully NOT letting the heaping stacks of papers topple to the floor. Devotedly. Lovingly. Just short of kissing with tongue.
And she might have woken up this morning with a stiff neck and sore shoulders and a need for a massage that she will seek in any way possible. Don’t massage schools need “subjects”?
I have an idea: you can pay me $20 to rub my shoulders.