It doesn’t take much to make me happy. Just buy a newspaper.
On my lunch break yesterday, I picked up a salad at Giant. The lady in front of me asked the cashier where she could buy the newspaper* — “You know, The Evening Capital,” she said.
Well, The Capital hasn’t used “evening” in its name since 1981, but no matter. She was buying a newspaper! I got so excited.
Then my husband tells me that one of his guitar students is an avid reader of the newspaper, reads the whole thing each day. And now that he knows my name, he looks for my articles. (Although we’ve never met.)
I’ll tell you, these kind of things make me giddy. And I’m not exaggerating when I use the word “giddy.” My eyes light up and I grin like an idiot. (I’m grinning like an idiot right now, I swear.)
It is just so cool to me to see customers actually buying the journalism product I help produce each day. OK, maybe they’re buying the paper for the ads, but that’s great, too! Ads are what pay most of the bills at a newspaper.
I’ve actually thought about thanking people when I see them buy the newspaper, but I’ve restrained myself. I certainly wouldn’t want to freak out any of the few readers we have left.
* Earlier, I wrote about how difficult it is to buy newspapers in the grocery store. They always seem to be displayed past the cash registers.