Last night, I finished a writing project that needed to be copied for distribution today. It was 9:15 PM. I got in the car and, naturally, drove to Kinko's. It was closed. It had closed at 9:00 PM.
[More after the jump.]
So I drove down Sunset to another Kinko's on Vine. That one was soon to close but they let me in for my quick job. If I'd missed that one, I'd have had to drive another 5 miles to the one, remaining 24-hour Kinko's on the West side of Los Angeles. One of Kinko's claims to fame, you will recall, is that their copy centers are open 24 hours.
Kinko's reminds me of another missing service.
Kinko's was purchased recently by Federal Express. You remember Federal Express. The old advertisements bragged it was for "when it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight". That has not happened in years. Indeed, Federal Express seems to think they've done a good job if they get an item to the correct zip code.
I had an item that needed to get to a client on a Saturday. The client was in Baltimore. I put the envelope in at the local Federal Express location fairly early on Friday, marked for Saturday delivery. I paid extra for Saturday delivery. It arrived on Monday. I could have accomplished that with a first class stamp.
Two other occasions, I sent packages to specific addresses, including room numbers to designate a particular person's office. In each instance, they simply dumped the package near the entrance or with a clerk. (These were both to court rooms, so it wasn't as if they were that hard to find in a court house.)
I got a cold call last Autumn from the Los Angeles Daily News, asking if I would like to get home delivery of their publication. There are a few things I like about the Daily News which cause me to buy it at the newsstand. Since they were expanding their delivery area to my neighborhood, I signed up after being assured that it would be delivered to "my door". My other papers are delivered to my door.
I have yet to see a Daily News after 6 months. The idiot who delivers them dumps them on the curb near the entrance to my apartment building. In this neighborhood (with rather large apartment buildings) "my door" means my apartment door. The newspaper is "delivered" to the curb some two blocks distant from my door.
Finally, how about Stouffer's? Do you remember Stouffer's? They were a company out of Solon, Ohio, that made all sorts of interesting, tasty entrees and side dishes for the busy professional. Stouffer's was, of course, purchased a number of years ago. They almost immediately got rid of the wonderful, quasi-fancy things they made and substituted glorified TV Dinners. It's the same red box but it's not the same food. Even the storied Macaroni & Cheese has had its good ingredients cut back. If you actually cook it in an oven, it doesn't brown the way it used to.
What I hate, I guess, is that someone creates a wonderful product, brings it to market to great fanfare, and then switches on us, withdrawing the original product for some cheap knock-off.
To Stouffer's, I can only say: "Give me short ribs or get out of my grocer's freezer."