Sometimes Things Are Easy

I recently ordered a subscription to the New Yorker. It seemed almost extravagantly expensive compared to the blithering fashion mags that I usually read - $47 for a year!

But it's all in the pursuit of brain-improving liberalism and whatever. Right. Then, I received a letter through the mail (!) letting me know that I could subscribe at "Professional" rates. I don't know why my profession entitles me to these rates, but apparently, I can now subscribe for $25/year. I didn't know whether I could still get this rate, and hate talking to people on the phone, so I just left the letter on my countertop until I had a free moment.

MLK, Jr. Day is proving to be just a moment, and how!

Me: Well, I got this letter in the mail telling me that I could get a $25 dollar rate. But I just signed up for the full price subscription.
Sales Rep: For how many issues is this rate?
Me: Um...47?
Sales Rep: Okay. I'll change that over for you. We'll issue you a credit.

What?!?