I’m a complete and utter newspaper nerd. I read about 75 newspapers online every day — my favourite being the Old Gray Lady — because, apparently, I am a news junkie. Political news excepted, of course. I abhor reading political news articles — the ridiculous and ignorant comments from the howling monkey brigades always manage to make my blood pressure go up about 140 points and I don’t like it. Not one bit.
While I know it’s not really en vogue to read newspapers in print anymore, I must admit that I am still an old-fashioned kind of newspaper girl. I like holding the *actual* newspaper in my hand while I, say, eat my cereal in the morning or leisurely drink cafe au lait at my favourite T.O. coffeeshop. I like being able to scan the articles at a glance without having to squint on my iPhone and risk ruining my perfectly good botox injections^, and I also love when my fingertips get all smudgy from the ink.
The aforementioned reasons are why I recently began subscribing to the weekend edition of the Globe and Mail. It’s sort of like Canada’s version of USA Today and, while I don’t really know which way it leans — what with Canada’s three political parties — whichever way it is, I like it. Actually, the only thing I don’t like about Globe and Mail thus far is that, for some reason, it seems very unevenly weighted to news outside of Ontario. I mean, everyone knows that Toronto is the center of the (Canadian) universe, so I’m unsure what this is about. Moving on.
I recently went home to Houston for a long weekend, where my parents gave me the best present evar and phoned in a big giant heatwave for me. Thanks Mom and Dad! Before I left Toronto, I called the Globe and Mail to put a “vacation stop” on my paper. Yes, I know it was only for three days, but I live at the entrance door to my floor, so anyone who lives on my “wing” would totally have known I was gone and what’s it to you anyway?! So after about 79 repeats of the “we’ll be with you shortly” message, the representative finally came on. Mind you, this is the newspaper. The newspaper I get twice weekly. The newspaper for which I pay a mere $13 a month.
First, she asked for my phone number. Then she asked me to verify my address. Then I had to provide her my birthdate. Then she told me my mobile number and asked me to confirm. Then she asked for my password, my social insurance number^^ , the secret doorknock and a note from my third grade teacher. K, just kidding about the latter, but everything else? True story. I actually giggled when she kept asking me to verify my info. I thought “I just called the Harris County Tax Appraiser to get some information about my taxes on the home I *own* — on which I pay a mortgage every month and on which I almost broke my hand signing my life away — and even *they* didn’t ask me to verify half the stuff that the Globe and Mail did! For the sake of Pete, people!
One thing’s for sure — you can rest assured that nothing’s getting past the astute customer service representatives at Canada’s Globe and Mail. They are serious security ninjas, where everybody certainly does *not* know your name (or any of your other personal information for that matter).
Related: When I am able, I like to be the first to deliver good news, so feast your eyes on the video below explaining how Canada just got their first daily paper (around the 2:40 mark). Also, they got a second area code, too. It’s like 1982 up in here!
^Well, I don’t have botox injections yet, so there’s nothing to ruin. Yet.
^^Social Insurance Numbers are Canada’s equivalent to American Social Security Numbers. I don’t know why Canada couldn’t have just played along and named them the same thing. I mean, we all know that they wish they were American anyway. 😉