#416 Confirmation

Greetings from 0fficialdom, that world where less is more and less is even less. Except when it comes to gobbledygook and bureau-speak. I was watching a federal official on the tube the other night and he actually used the word gobbledygook. And it is gobbledygook, by the way, not the more wussy gobbledygoop. It’s not something you put on your hamburger, it’s a way of confusing the meaning of words. Like the word official itself. I got an “official” notice from the US Postal Service, formerly known as the US Mail. It didn’t change its name to engage in gender correctness, it changed its name to reflect its semi-private mission. And let me tell you, private is right. Recently, I changed residences, and in the process of doing so, I put in a change of address notice to the postal service. After about a week of bureaucratic slovenliness I finally got mail at my new address. The first piece I received was an official “change of address confirmation.” Wow, I thought, a confirmation, I hope I don’t have to wear a little white dress. It was an official-looking envelope from the postal service that had in bold letters on the front: “Verification Required, Do Not Discard.” As this was an official communication from a quasi-governmental organization, you can bet I hastened to not discard it. Interestingly though, the upper stamp corner said “pre-sorted first class mail,” which is usually the cheaper designation preferred by mass mailers. The mystery was soon revealed. When I opened the envelope to look for the official verification that I figured I was supposed to send back, all I found was an envelope full of coupons. They were coupons from local stores and chains, welcoming me to my new residence and introducing themselves with great offers, which I was sure to need in my new plane of existence. It reminded me of all the offers from private publishers and writing accessory companies I got when I filed my official copyright notice for my book. This privatization stuff means you can’t even send mail to the post office without getting on someone’s mailing list. In this case the mailing list of the postal service as well. I mean, holy cornhole Batman, I just wanted to change my address, not get an envelope fill of coupons. The envelope may as well have been blue and had Val-pak on the outside, it was those kind of coupons and that many. I finally found the verification notice that made me not discard the darn thing in the first place. It showed my new address, asked if this was my new address, then said if this is correct, no action is required. Well one action. I pitched the whole thing in the recycling. Used to be one of the best things about moving was it took a while for your junkmail to follow you. Not anymore. It’s the first piece you get, and it comes straight from the postal service. And that’s official.
America, ya gotta love it.