Wannarant.com The place to let off steam.

Dear Sir,

My household gets a lot of mail; I own up to that. We are all big magazine readers, and beyond that, have excellent credit scores and often give to charity - which, in turn, gives back to us with thousands of requests for more money, offers for free credit cards, and stacks of more magazines and catalogues. Glancing at these catalogues, as you do each day, you may erroneously believe that at least one resident of this house is a twelve year old girl who likes sundresses, dolls, and zoo animals. We are not sure how this happened.

It cannot be easy for you to carry several pounds of our mail each day, not knowing for whom you toil; you may be frustrated by the knowledge that we won't even read some of our mail before it becomes fodder for our shredder. We do love to shred. Perhaps this is our dramatic flaw. Perhaps it is inappropriate that we sometimes concurrently shred two documents in two shredders on two floors, and then celebrate by laughing maniacally.

However, is ripping the covers off all our magazines really the answer? Or crushing our Netflix DVDs? I am at this point reflecting only on the mail which has made it through the door, and what I have been able to find on the lawn. I hesitate to speculate on the dark fate of those letters whose existence left no trace; I will never know the number of these desaparecidos.

Yesterday, you came to the door with a person I assume was a trainee. You had no way of knowing I was home, but I was - I hid in the kitchen when I heard you approach, since although it was nearing three o'clock, I was still in my pajamas. In any case, I clearly heard you say "I hate this mail slot." Or perhaps it was "I hate this door" - I'm bad at remembering things that happen so early in the day. Regardless:

1. Although you doubtless considered this an innocent exchange - perhaps a helpful tip, perhaps an unburdening of deeply held grief - do you not see that you are passing an encoded set of biases to a new generation of mail carriers? Is this not the way minor grievances grow into negative and abiding stereotypes? Sir, your position as an employee of the public - the whole public - gives you a mandate to act against racism, homophobia, and, yes, anti-mail-slot bias. If representatives our government do not treat us with dignity, how can we expect anyone else to do so?

2. When you act out of resentment of the door/mail slot, the door is unaffected. The door, being made of steel and fiberglass, is unable to feel, although it can conduct electricity. In contrast, the residents of this house - and recipients of its mail - are real people with hopes and dreams, and it is we who bear the consequence of your ire. We would also prefer that you not conduct electricity through us.

Perhaps it is the door's unfeeling nature which is the source of your hatred - the fracture-resistant steel door which stands immobile between you and us? Perhaps a welcome mat would help alleviate your feeling of exclusion, which the door's durable red front (coated with a weather-protective zinc-aluminum alloy) has come to symbolize?

Oh, Sir. (Or Ma'am - I didn't really pay attention. My decision to hide in the kitchen was perhaps a trace antisocial.) Oh, Sir, or Ma'am, you are welcome, and always have been. We want you to enter our home. Or rather, we want our mail to do so; at present, I often find about half of it spread around the front porch.

I acknowledge that what seems malicious may merely be a side effect of trying to shove so much mail through a very narrow slot. And it is a narrow slot, backed by a wind baffle - winters are cold here, much colder than the hot climates of our origin. (You may note this by examining the postmarks on the bulk of our personal correspondence.) Although we could widen the slot, and replace the door, such a move would doubtless also thicken our heating bills, leading to the same mail-fit problem we sought to escape in the first place.

Instead of your current approach, which is characterized by attempts to force all of the mail through the slot concurrently, why not separate the mail into two handfuls? Or even three? I'm just riffing, but you can see the possibilities. On the face of it, it may seem as though this plan adds to your workload while we alone reap the benefits, but it is for you as much as us. Think how much energy you will save once you no longer have to shove with the might of a battering ram, struggling to shear past layers of cardstock and industrial plastic.

I know this doesn't resolve your (theoretical) satchel heaviness problem, and I respect your anger - I don't like mail slots either. It just came with the house. But when you entered the letter-carrying field, you knew the risks - yet you were undeterred. Why? Because of a love of mail.

Embrace that love, Sir. You and I are on the same side.

Sincerely,