Alex Traynor: Adventures in Paperboying!

A lot of things have changed since I last wrote about the subject of my employment. Firstly, I now have my own car, a ’93 Camry Family Sedan, which is the very definition of “Bitchin’”. Secondly, I now work alone on my own route spanning from Manchester, CT all the way back to my hometown of Glastonbury. And Finally, Roger Anderson fell down a well and died (OK, this one isn’t real, but they say if you dream hard enough anything can come true).

For those of you not in the know, I am a “paperboy”. Now, the combination of those two words may bring to mind the picture of an 11 year old boy who wakes up at 5am to go ride his bicycle around the neighborhood, throwing papers onto doorsteps whilst being chased around by the neighborhood dog. Well, what I do is nothing like that, in actuality; I have the best fucking job in the world. What I do is drive around in my Camry and deliver free, advertiser-supported, auto newspapers to various locales (mostly Chinese restaurants and Liquor stores). While there may be a lack of respect for the profession, the pay is phenomenal, there’s little effort required, the chicks are great (this one’s a lie), and I get to keep all the free auto newspapers I want!

The following is the account of one day on the job:

3:10
I get my cell-phone, mp3 player, and beloved coat and hop into my Camry

3:30
After 5 minutes of heavy lifting, I’m ready to go.

3:35
I arrive at my first stop.

Either Holiday Inn appointed me Employee of the Month, or I’ve just been parking in his spot every Thursday for the past year.

3:58
Ahh, so that's where kids these days get their drugs.

4:02
The first of several thousand times I will see this sign.

4:07
This guy guards my papers

4:11
I get bored and decide to stop into Ocean State Job Lot (like Walmart except cheaper and shittier)

4:13
I leave Job Lot with undeniable proof that it is being run by Scientologists.

4:16
I wander into a furniture store and fall asleep for the next 15 minutes. I am rudely awakened by a sales associate who thinks I’m homeless and likes to threaten to call the police.

4:31
On the way out of the furniture store I gaze upon one of the crappiest cars known to man. I feel better about myself.

4:36
I wander into The Salvation Army and buy some records.

Jane Fonda's Workout Record! YESSS MOTHERFUCKER!

4:52
I am faced with a tough decision.

4:53
We have a winner!

5:02
Dinner Time! (Future Diarrhea!)

5:15
I arrive at my most depressing stop, Gold’s Gym.

Now, regular gyms consist of even amounts of:

a.) Fat people trying to get skinny.
b.) Skinny people trying to get muscular.
and
c.) Muscular people trying to make groups A and B feel self-conscious.

Gold's Gym consists of nothing but group C.
I look down at my pale decrepit body and begin to cry.

5:35
It gets really dark, and I arrive at K&S Food Center, the ethnic convenience store that single-handedly ensures I smell like ‘Goat Meat’ for the next month or so.

5:51
I get bored and decide to take a picture of myself talking on my cell phone while driving (which, turns out, only amplifies the danger).

6:15
This used to be a Mr. Auto Wash, until Mrs. Auto Wash got it in the divorce.

6:23

One of the restaurants I deliver to was closed. This was their excuse:

Maybe their "Familey Problum" was illiteracy?

6:33

I get bored again and decide to take more pictures of me driving.

In retrospect, this was a tad more dangerous than the cell-phone one.

6:46
East Hartford Liquor Store: Your number one destination for almost getting carjacked by a hobo!

6:57
I arrive here:

While I have never rented a room in an Econo Lodge and cannot attest to their comfort, I can say that based on how fucking comfortable and unsupervised their lobby is, I’d be glad to stay in an Econo Lodge any day of the week.

7:17
After getting kicked out of EconoLobby, I drive past this bus stop.

One day over the summer I was delivering papers the bus stop, when I noticed two girls sitting inside the stop. They watched me stock the papers and when I looked back at them, they were chuckling to one another. And this wasn’t a “look at that cute freckled kid” kind of chuckle, it was a mean-spirited “that kid has a pathetic job” kind of chuckle.

I looked them in the eye, hopped into my Bitchin’ Camry, drove past them, and yelled, “AT LEAST I DON’T HAVE TO RIDE THE FUCKING BUS!”

7:22
I got a lifetime ban from this place after I called the manager something that rhymes with “Fried up old runt”.

7:25
I arrive at my last stop (even though I’m over the age of 12, this place’s name still makes me laugh).

7:31
I drive past Dunkin’ Donuts to see if my friend Eric is working. Whenever he works Thursdays I drop by and he pays for my donuts while I brag about how much more money I make than him.