Non-post

The theme of More Excelsior, if you haven’t picked up on it yet, is trying to tease out why some things in life aren’t as good as they could be, and then proposing some ways to improve them.

Language, specifically the English one, happens to be an area sorely in need of some improvement. While I am perhaps best known for my quixotic battles against the execrable double-space-after-a-period (see here), I have found a new villain begging for some old fashioned frontier justice – “non-paper.”

I’m not sure the extent to which this so-called word has burrowed into the real world, so this could be a real “inside baseball” type of thing (Sidebar: isn’t “inside baseball” a very “inside baseball” phrase? Does that mean it’s an onomatopoeia? Update – actually, it’s called an autological word. Learn something new…). In the public sector circles in which I run, “non-paper” is now the preferred term for any memo, briefing paper, white paper, or basically any other document. From what I can puzzle out, it’s diplomatic jargon for an “officially unofficial” document, and was originally used to share some controversial proposal and give some cover to policymakers if such a document was leaked.

While I can appreciate the need for caution and subtlety, the linguistic absurdity of “non-paper” trumps whatever CYA usefulness the word has. I mean, seriously – writing “non-paper” on the top of a document comprising sentences, formed into paragraphs, including headings and pagination, and following a basically logical structure, then printed on 8.5×11 post-consumer waste recycled PAPER, is straight-up insane. I feel like I’m taking crazy pills when I’m in meetings and people say it with a straight face.

Of course it’s a paper. Maybe it’s a paper in draft form. Maybe it’s “for internal use only.” Maybe it’s – ugh – “pre-decisional.” But it is a paper, dang it.

And calling a paper a paper is just a little way to move ever upwards.

The Little Things: Greeting Cards

I was in Target the other day, looking for a card for a buddy who just got married. The “you’ve been married a month but I missed your wedding and now I’m sending a gift” card selection was understandably thin. Still, it was pretty clear I wouldn’t have been in any better shape had I been card shopping BEFORE the wedding. I don’t want to send a novelty card with either a semi-nude individual on the cover or a wise-cracking anthropomorphic animal; it was a WEDDING, after all. On the other hand, a flower-drenched card featuring a mad-lib of schmaltz is equally unappealing.

I’m not a very crafty person, so “make something yourself” is bound to disappoint/terrify both me and the recipient. What I need is a series of nice, tasteful cards for special occasions.  Keep the quality card stock, the embossed lettering, and silver and gold trim; lose the sentimental messages, that, frankly, make all good and decent folk throw up a little in their mouths. Instead, the front of the card could say, “Congratulations on your wedding,” “Congratulations on your birthday,” “Congratulations on your colonoscopy,” or what-have-you. The interior, aside from a gift card slot or money holder, could read “Cordially,” or “Best wishes,” or “All the best,” so you just have to sign your name.

No muss, no fuss, right? Why make the recipient have to read through some nonsensical definition of love/friendship that is more appropriate to a Bette Midler song? If you really feel such deep passion for someone, you probably should express it in a more substantive manner than a greeting card, after all.

So Hallmark, I’m looking at you. Let’s get this idea started. Think of the ancillary benefits as well: significant cost savings from firing your greeting card editorial team. I can think of a few places that are hiring for those skilled in crafting substance-free messages, these days…

First the Boss Button, Now This

The Wall Street Journal (subscription required) reports on a clever-but-slightly-sketchy ploy by a Manhattan steakhouse to help business executives jonesing for that New York strip steak get around penny-pinching accounting offices.

Rain, Sleet, Snow – Yes. Market Competition – Ah, Maybe?

I had the day off today, so I ran some errands that have piled up, as errands are wont to do. First on my list was a trip to the friendly neighborhood United States Post Office.

Now, let me say something upfront. Overall, I think the Post Office, on balance, does a very good job. I can get a letter to pretty much anywhere in the country in a few days, for 44 cents. What else costs so little and travels so far? I’ve also worked for several small businesses that relied on USPS for product deliveries, and I can count on one hand the number of times we had a screw-up. In general, the Post Office is good at what it does.

What it’s not good at, however, is making money.  As the Washington Post reported on Sunday, to plug a growing budget deficit, the Post Office is considering stopping Saturday mail delivery, which could save up to $3 billion per year. Even this change alone is unlikely to solve the USPS’s budget woes, however. Just last week, the Post Office needed a Congressional “bailout” to avoid making the full $5.4 billion payment due for its retirees’ health benefits.

What’s the problem? Well, Congress expects the Post Office to operate like a business, and for the most part it does, except that it’s a business that’s seen as providing a vital national service.  Despite the precipitous drop in mail volume, thanks primarily to the rise of e-mail, the Post Office can’t make the significant service cuts, office closings, and rate increases that it needs to be financially solvent. No Congressman wants the Post Office, that potent symbol of government authority, to close offices in their districts, particularly in rural America.  It also has a powerful postal employees union with which to contend, and significant health and pension obligations.

The Post Office is trying to valiantly fight on, but it’s hard to see how the situation can continue (though, never underestimate the power of government financial chicanery). One possible solution would be to remove the first class mail delivery monopoly enjoyed by USPS, and open the sector up to full competition.

The opposing argument, of course, is that the Post Office is a natural monopoly, and competing infrastructures for mail delivery would be a waste of resources. I don’t think this argument holds much weight, however. Unlike say, a sewage system, there’s no natural monopoly in mail delivery. We know this because there are already competing delivery services for all package and letter delivery, with the exception of first class mail.

Now, it’s true, FedEx and UPS might not see the value in providing the extent of the services currently offered by the Post Office. But that just means there would be a niche for a privatized USPS, with its existing infrastructure, to take advantage of. Prices might go up, but, with the long term domination of email all but assured, they probably wouldn’t go up too much. In the cities and major towns, prices for first class delivery might even go down as a result of the new competition.

The bottomline is that despite the historic role the Post Office has played in America’s story, it’s time to write a new chapter – one in which supply and demand and budget realities are the new main characters.

What does it take to get some fro-yo around here?

So, I just found that I live in the U.S. county with the second highest concentration of affluent young professionals (25-34 year-olds making more than $100,000). My daily intake of anecdotal data definitely supports what this Nielsen study empirically demonstrates – there be a lot of cash flashing in this straight-up thug town called Arlington, homes.

It doesn’t take a micro-economist or corporate marketer to realize Arlington County is an eye in the center of our economic maelstrom. We’re still buying consumer goods, we’re still going out to dinner, we’re still drinking overpriced imports at Irish bars. Supply of (semi) luxury items should be high to serve one of the few remaining bright spots of consumer demand – right?

Then why the heck is it so hard for me to find Haagen-Dazs Low Fat Vanilla Frozen Yogurt?

For some unfortunate personal reasons (curse you, lactose!) my ability to eat ice cream has been sorely limited of late. The aforementioned Haagen-Dazs fro-yo is one of the few products I’ve found that let me get my fix of frozen deliciousness without paying the digestive price I would otherwise. But for the past two months, I have had a major difficulty finding the stuff.

The Whole Foods in the Clarendon neighborhood of Arlington (the temple at which most of my affluent young professional brethren worship) has a ton of relatively expensive, pint-sized ice cream. Prices for Haagen Dazs pints range from $3.50 to $4.00. Invariably, however, whenever I visit the frozen food aisle, the vanilla flavor is sold out, with only vanilla raspberry swirl and coffee flavors remaining. The next dealer I visit is the Harris Teeter grocery store in Ballston, another Arlington neighborhood. HT is not as chic as Whole Foods, but still caters to an upscale shopper. They don’t even carry the vanilla fro-yo, however.

My last resort is the bodega in my apartment building. They often have some in stock – though it’s (a) usually freezer burnt and (b) costs a whopping $6.00 per pint. But for three days, they’ve been out as well.

The amateur economist in me is trying to puzzle this out. There are a lot of young women concerned with their body image in my neighborhood, and I suspect that they are the primary consumers of frozen yogurt pints. Perhaps I live in the perfect storm of consumer demand for this product. But if that’s the case (1) why don’t other flavors of fro-yo sell out; and (2) why don’t grocery stores like Whole Foods start increasing their orders of the stuff to meet the apparent demand – particularly if the pints are selling out across a variety of price points?