Junk Melman

Before moving to Marietta last year, I lived in a condo in Dunwoody. Great place, quiet, nice neighbors. The only problem I had there was the community mail center. My place was the closest to the mailboxes which was convenient not only for me, but for any trash originating there. 

There was no trashcan for junk mail. I’m sure this was due to the fact that there was so much of it; I’m sure a trash can would be overflowing most of the time. Instead, you had to take your junk mail home with you and trash it there. This was not a problem for 95% of the residents.

Invariably though, someone would pull out a weeks worth of junk mail and just set it on top of the mailboxes. There was no maintenance crew there and the mailman certainly wasn’t going to pick it back up. So it would end up on the ground where the wind would blow it all around my 1st floor, corner condo. I was constantly picking up wet, nasty junk mail.

In the process of picking up all that crap, I couldn’t help but notice that the addresses generally belonged to the same two or three units. As long as I kept picking up their trash, I was the only one with the problem. SOOooooo, I came up with a better idea. Instead of trashing it for them, I would just return it to them directly later that night or in the morning on my way to work.

It probably would have been better if I’d knocked on the door and handed it to them but there were two problems with that. 1) They might enjoy the service or even be amused by it and I’d be no better off than I was. 2) I just didn’t have the kahunas for that. Instead, I would throw it up in the air in front of their door so they could have the same fun experience picking it up that I had.

What I wasn’t prepared for was the adrenalin rush from trying to be stealthy so no one would see me. I mean, this could be considered somewhat strange behavior. So there I was, like a thief in the night, tiptoeing up stairs and tossing piles of pizza coupons and missing child cards into the air like the Sugar Plum Fairy. My heart rate would go up higher than an aerobic exercise. It got to the point where I was actually looking forward to finding discarded junk mail!

When I told my friend Rebecca about my new found hobby she stared at me for several seconds before bursting into laughter. Sure, I knew it was funny. I guess I didn’t realize HOW funny until I went into the flight school days later and everyone came up to me with grins on their faces and made amusing comments about “Junk Melman”. My friend Bryan even made me some business cards with a little super hero in tights and a big “M” on his chest. It had a slogan and some other stuff I can’t remember. If I find one, I will post a picture of it here.

Anyway, my method was effective. Soon there was no junk mail to be found. My work there was done.

Oh look, I found it!

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