Adventures in Marketing: Weeks 214 – 223.5

Gave an “I Will Keep You Alive” to our dematologist, who’d made a cameo appearance within it, and a “Cheesesteak” to a girl – now a grandmother – who did the same within it. We had met at a high school party, kept in touch, and I last had seen her at her wedding to a Marine ‘66 or ‘67. I had wondered what had happened to her but had forgotten her husband’s surname. Recently out of the blue, I remembered her sister’s first name and, by Googling them both, found their father’s obit, which had both their married names, but I could get no further. Google. Facebook. Nothing. Then out-of-the-semi-blue a guy called me who had been part of the same parties. “Do you remember Anna H___?” I said. “I talked to her just last week,” he said. So I got her number and called – and she didn’t remember me.
But we had a nice chat.

Also Pay Pal says I have sold a copy of “Outlaws, Rebels…”
This is even more mysterious.
It provided no mailing address to send it to, and the Buyer’s e-mail address it gave resulted in an immediate “Permanent error” notification. This address indicated he was at Travis Air Force Base, so I commenced sleuthing.
Trying to gain information from Pay Pal’s customer service proved beyond my level of expertise. (I may have posted a message at a Help Line, but, if I did, I didn’t receive any.) I found the likely Buyer at Facebook, but since he hadn’t posted anything in three years, I didn’t expect much from my “Friend Request” – and received nothing. (His apparent age, 50-ish, and position of responsibility both placed him outside my usual audience demographics, adding to the mystery.)
Then I called Travis. A pleasant young woman said she couldn’t give me a personal mailing address, and if I sent a book to him c/o the base, it probably wouldn’t be delivered. She did tell me that the “” portion of the e-mail address Pay Pal supplied was incorrect. “It should be Maybe it was a typo.”
“It’s there twice,” I said. “ So I don’t think so.”
We were both puzzled.
“If it’s a scam,” I said. “Except someone’s going to a lot of trouble to get a copy of my book. Especially since there’s no way for them to actually get it.”
“I guess you’ll have to wait for him to realize it was never delivered.”
Sounds right, I thought. Then I can blame Trump for sabotaging the mail.

In other news, I have resolved problems with my “distributor.” Well, not all my problems. I still haven’t been paid. But I am getting back some of my unsold books. (That only took eight or nine books.) So if any of you have been waiting to order them, limited copies are now available.