Wow! The New Yorker really did listen to me.

In my previous blog post, in which I lay claim to intimidating The New Yorker magazine into sending me my issue of the magazine with Obama and his wife on charicturized on the cover, was of course a joke. Turns out the joke’s on me. The New Yorker really did get wind of my blog post and responded with an apologetic email. Holy crap!

Dear Ms. Carlin,

Your husband’s blog at

was brought to our attention by our Public Relations department.

On behalf of The New Yorker and Conde Nast Publications, please accept our deepest apologies for not getting you this issue. Everything is in order on the subscription account, and we have received confirmations from our USPS representatives that all deliveries were received into the mail entry points. I sincerely hope this is an isolated incident and that you continue to receive your magazine and enjoy reading The New Yorker. Your loyalty over many years is highly appreciated  by all of us – editorial, production, marketing and the many various departments needed to bring you the quality of literary essays you have enjoyed year after year.

Since he included the email from Customer Service I was able to locate your account number and have your address. Fortunately, I have one of the few copies of the July 21 issue here in my office and will be sending it via DHL to his attention. Please expect to see it by Saturday, July 26.

If you have any questions or wish to discuss this further, please do not hesitate to contact me directly. You may also note that I shared the history of reading the Detroit News, Free Press as well as Field and Stream – growing up in Livonia as the daughter of a Ford employee who adored fly fishing, skiing at Pine Knob, Sanders Ice Cream, Vernor’s, and (Elias Bros) Big Boy has its benefits.

Thank you for bringing this to our attention,

Linda H. Glaser

Customer Service Specialist

Condé Nast Publications, Inc.

tel. 303-684-0825  fax 303-684-0864


It is addressed to Colleen because she sent the email inquiring into why we had not received our copy of that issue. My wife is a take-action kind of person, whereas I tend to be a seethe and bitch in solitude kind of guy.  Hence this blog, an outlet for my agitation. No doubt without Collen I would end up one of those strange, creepy dudes wandering aimlessly mumbling obsenities to himself.

Both Colleen and I were blown away by The New Yorker’s response. I mean, I’ve always assumed no one really reads my blog. And even if they do it doesn’t really make much of an impression. I don’t get a lot of comments. And when I do, even if it is a quick one-line response by someone I know, I’m giddy the rest of the day. Forget about if someone I don’t know leaves a paragraph-lengthed response. (I suppose I am kind of needy blogger, huh.) So, when I learned that someone from The New Yorker had actually read my blog and it prompted a thoughtful reply, I just about wet myself. Really, I think I did a little. But don’t worry. There’s probably no need to run home for a change of underwear. I’ve excreted worse into my shorts.

Anyhoo… Colleen found the repsonse particularly intersting because she works in market research and much of her attention is devoted to costumer service and customer response to services and product and customer attitudes blah blah blah.  I think the email is making the rounds at her work.

Me — I was just impressed that someone actually fucking listened to me. Although, I’ve now been informed by Colleen that I can no longer gripe that no one listens to me, an oft-uttered complaint of mine. Hell, it is practically a self-defining mantra. In any case, she has reserved the right to toss this New Yorker thing back in my face from now on whenever I do bitch. I suppose that I can’t really blame here. If I had to listen to me complain I’d use any means at my disposal in order to shut me the hell up. Damn you, New Yorker! For taking away my right as American to complain and rant and rave against perceived injustices,true or not, against myself.

I have to say I’m impressed, that someone from The New Yorker would actually take time out of their day to compose an email because of my blog. This despite being a cynical GenXer who always finds the actions of those in PR and Advertising etc. suspect and not to be believed or trusted. It worked. As I think my wife would say, my emotional attachment and/or loyalty to The New Yorker brand has been at least maintained, if not re-enforced. Ick, makes me feel a little grubby just saying that sort of thing.

I just can’t help imagining Ms. Linda H. Glaser in some office (though probably more likely a cube of some sort) at The New Yorker offices, located at:

4 Times Square
New York, NY 10036

(address given for contact via the web site)

With her grande cup of Starbucks coffee or perhaps some nice chai tea, the low chatter of NPR playing, while the business of the magazine buzzes around her, composing the well-considered email that appears above. (Man, I wished I had that job. Of course, if I worked at The New Yorker offices I’d have to track down where Jay McInerney sat when he worked there as a fact checker. I mean, before he was shit canned.) It makes me feel sort of important, in a way.

I wonder if the PR dept sought Linda out specifically because she is orginally from Michigan, allowing her to make that “personal connection” with me, mentioning at the end of the email The Freep and The Detroit News as well as Field and Stream and the bit about her father who adored fly fishing. I admit it is a nice touch. My dad loved fly fishing too. But he happened to work for GM for 35 years. And as most anyone from the SE Michigan can tell you there can often be strong loyalties and rivalries between the employees and families of employees of the Big Three (as they’ve been known for so long, althought those days might be numbers). Being from a GM family, her mention of Ford and not GM, might have wrankled me, but it didn’t. I don’t really care about such things. We drive Hondas.

In any case, I appreciate the effort taken by Linda and The New Yorker. My loyalty to the magazine is assured…for now anyway.

A possibly interesting generationl-difference side-note regrading this matter (at least to me): when I told the guy I work with about it he seemed fairly less impresed by it then I. Is that, I wonder, because he is a millennial, and as such this kind of thing doesn’t seem very unusual to him? Or is it because The New Yorker doesn’t really impress him as a publication? Also, I wonder if a  Boomer attitude would be different. Not because of their expectations of the interent but due to their expectations that they be listened to just as a matter of course, by The New Yorker and anyone else they  happen to have a beef with. I just can’t help thinking that my gripe that no one listens to me is typical of being a GenXer?

Anyway. I realize that this post has been pretty long-winded, but this instant is probably going to constitute the height of my interent fame, and as such I’m reveling in it, as pathetic as that might seem.

Still, now that this has happened I can’t help thinking of my blog differently. Don’t get me wrong. My  head hasn’t suddenly swelled beyond control. No more than usual anyway. I don’t think I’m going to be some famous blogger because of this. Yeah, right. After all it was simply a case of a company wanting to keep a costumer happy so that said customer will continue to shell out bucks for said company’s product. Instead, I can’t help feeling the need to be more careful when I write for this blog. Anyone who has read even a single post is aware of my sloppiness — typos, misspellings, awkard phrasing, poor grammar etc. Having said that I’m sure this post, despite my best efforts, is littered with errors as well. Maybe I can argue that that is an inherent part of the personality, and dare I say it, charm, of my blog. Yeah, I wouldn’t really buy that either.

Okay. I’ll shut up now.


One response to “Wow! The New Yorker really did listen to me.

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