
Every Monday morning before the garbage truck arrives, it is my chore to wheel the trash cart out to the mailbox and clean out all the junk that has accumulated there during the week.
It’s a tough job, requiring an attention to detail that I am not quite capable of on Monday mornings.
It used to be a simple task but then with so much direct marketing going directly into the trash, the industry was forced to evolve – in a downright Darwinian manner.
Like viruses who hide under coats of protein or bugs that disguise themselves as twigs, a few species of junk mail have wrapped themselves in envelopes that appear to be something you need – like utility bills or government documents – a favorite being the refund check.
I thought I'd seen it all, until sifting through last week's mail when I came across the ultimate. An official looking envelop that declared in big, bold letters: YOUR RESPONSE IS REQUIRED BY LAW.
Wow! Just plain... WOW!
I tried to guess what it might be. The warranty on our coffee maker is about to expire. Could it be that? An extension offer?
Nope.
The return address read US Department of Commerce. So what gives? Is our government getting into the junk mail business?
I suppose it was inevitable. We are already in the banking and car business, so why not junk mail? It's probably fallen on hard times too.
So as required by law, I opened the envelop – and found a questionnaire called The American Community Survey. It's a booklet printed on cheap stock with all kinds of nosy questions in bold blank ink and green shaded boxes for the answers.
Having a pen on me, I used the mailbox as a desk and began filling it out.
The very first question threw me for a loop. It wanted to know BOTH my age and date of birth - which raised a few questions of my own. Was the Census incapable of doing simple arithmetic or just plain lazy? Or could it be a test to see if I was an idiot? In that case, I hoped I would not disappoint.
The next question about my gender was just as bad. It gave only two choices. Male and female. Good grief, how stuck in last millennium can you get?
The question of race demonstrated some sign of progress. Respondents could check as many boxes as applicable. Black, White, Asian, Inuit; Elizabeth Warren, knock yourself out.
Under HOUSING, they covered all the bases. Even including a little green box to check if you were living in a van down by the river. You got to wonder though - how many people living like that have a mailbox?
Next the survey wanted to know how many stoves and refrigerators we had. For that I needed help.
“Hon,” I yelled from the driveway, “how many stoves and fridges do we got?”
“Inside or outside?” she yelled back.
Good question, I hadn't thought of that. Counting the ones on the porch, we had at least five of each. The same went for automobiles, so I started adding up the yard-cars.
“Why do you want to know?” she shouted.
“I'm filling out a survey.”
“WHAT!!”
“IT'S A CENSUS FORM."
“DON'T YOU DARE...” she shouted as she ran across the lawn.
“We got to fill it out,” I told her, “it's the law.”
“I'll do it,” she said then muttered, “people will think we're a bunch of hicks...”
“Wouldn't worry about that,” I told her as I flipped a glossy Lexus ad into the trash.
***
This week’s writing challenge: write a tale in the form of message.
- Write a letter.
- Write an email exchange.
- Write a trail of Tweets. Or is that twits?
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Post your article to Gather Writing Essentials.
BE SURE TO TAG your submission with MWE. Note: I search for articles using the tag "MWE" If you don't tag it right, I will not find it.
- Include "Monday Writing Essential" in your title.
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Reminder: the cutoff for the Gather Anthology is July 28, 2012. If you want to submit your writing, send a message to Pam Brittain's Gather email for the details.
***
Last week’s writing challenge to tell a workplace tale drew the following responses:
After midnight--mwe 7/18/12 by karen vaughan
Monday Writing Essential - Death by Tech by Patrick M.
Monday Writing Essential - The Battle of the Magic Pony by Patrick M.
Another Typical Day At the Office?(Monday Writing Essential) by G.M. Jackson
Monday Writing Essentials 7/16/12 Workplace Tales… by Patricia J.
Weekly reminder: don't forget to recommend an article that you like (to learn why, read Ann Marcaida's article Attract More Writers and Artists to Gather!).. Also try to place a comment on at least one article and say more than you liked the piece. Tell the author what worked and what needs work.





















Comments: 45
And they had an 8th grade, high school education.
I'm referring to most people in the US who were born in the 19th century or very early 20th century, particularly people in the rural areas.
My grandparents graduated high school at the 8th grade, when they were 16 or 18 - they had to help with the crops - the sheep, and the crops in Utah, so they couldn't go every day.
They later wrote genealogies, which they typed.
My grandfather started as a typist in WWI, before he was sent to France.
Their stories were told with perfect command of English, such that we do not always find among college-graduates.
Many college graduates, but not the grads who major in the study of the mastering of the universe from the online university.
And the wealthier classes, who had a college or finishing school - their writings were peopled with erudite quotes.
Thanks for stretching our writers minds a bit with such an old-fashioned idea. Now featured on Gather’s Luminous Writers & Artists.
(God bless you) :)
Sliding into my two-week every two weeks off the Internet to write — see you on the other side.
When you say you still write letters do you mean by longhand or on your computer?
I, for the life of me, cannot figure what business it is of the government what household appliances I own.
Has any one of you seniors completed your mental health Medicare questionaire at the physician's office yet? Interesting to say the least. I have some ideas about what use these could have other than what the doctor says it will be used for.
Great challenge, by the way, Greg.
Thanks for sharing and submitting to
The Surreal Circus.
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