The bill came in again yesterday, just as it has monthly for decades. The New York Times, the paper of record in New York and a couple of other parts of the world.  I’ve been getting home delivery for longer than many readers have been alive. 

It’s hard to say why yesterday was different than any other day the bill arrived, but I called the New York Times home delivery people and told them that I had enough.  For those who don’t get it, the monthly home delivery price is $42. Certainly not an earth-shattering price, but more expensive than my other dailies and, when combined with the multitude of other monthly costs that have arisen since I first started home delivery (like cable TV, internet, cellphone) it adds up.  The couple of “must-have” costs have multiplied into a half-dozen, and that’s only because I don’t use a smartphone.

So I told that gal on the other end of my landline that I was canceling my home delivery.  She made a sound of sympathy that comes easily to really good customer service representatives, and told me they were sorry to see me go after so many years.  I waited.  Then she told me not to let the door hit me on the way out.  It was done.

On the New York Times website, I searched for the button to push for serious blogger to get complimentary access to the Times. I couldn’t find the button, which apparently is only visible to people the Times loves more than me. 

In my twisted thoughts, it struck me that I’ve been pretty darned good to the Times over the years.  I’ve been paying for delivery long enough to build up some decent equity.  I get calls from their reporters pretty regularly, sometimes for background and sometimes for quotes. They’ve written stories about me and my cases, and I’ve rarely called their reporters bad names for getting it wrong (though it has happened).

At SJ, I link to the NYT regularly, as it’s the paper I read the most. I send a few readers their way. Maybe more than a few.  They get some free publicity from me as a credible source.  Sure, some criticism as well, but even in the criticism they enjoy attributed credibility.  After all, if they didn’t count, they wouldn’t be worthy of criticism.

I think it’s fair to say I’ve been pretty good to the New York Times over the years. I’m not saying they haven’t been good to me as well, as the paper arrives most days on my driveway as expected, and when it doesn’t, they are appropriately contrite if otherwise unhelpful.

But after a few decades, and under the circumstances, it struck me that they ought to show a little love in return and let me in for free.  I called them back and spoke with a young lady named Genay, who informed me that I was not eligible for a complimentary subscription. I asked her if, maybe, she wanted to know why I was asking for one before she told me to drop dead. No, she responded. It didn’t matter why.

I asked my pal David Lat, whose far more popular  Above the Law is a major jumping off point for readers to be sent elsewhere. whether he gets complimentary access to the Times.  He told me that he not only doesn’t get a free ride, but happily pays as one of the few patrons of dead tree media left.  I told him he was a better man than me, and obviously not nearly as cheap.  Then again, he doesn’t have a kid to put through MIT, and his blawg makes money as opposed to the mine, a sink hole despite the promise of internet marketers that blogs are the font of fabulous wealth and success.

As a last ditch effort, I sent the New York Times an email tell them what a dear friend I’ve been all these years, but that it was time for them to return the love.  I’ve checked my inbox a few times since then for their response.  Nothing.

In a few days, I’ll get a call from someone at the New York Times who has a question about a case or a post I’ve written, or needs a quote to fill out a story.  Before I respond to the question, I’ll ask them about my complimentary access, and they’ll tell me that they don’t know anything about stuff like that, and that belts are tight all around the paper, with great reporters and columnists being laid off right and left, and the remaining few being forced to write twice as many words a day.

And I’ll feel bad about being such a selfish person and give the reporter whatever they need.  But if you don’t see me linking to the New York Times here anymore, you’ll know why. I don’t feel that badly.