JP Morgan Chase Incites Terror Amongst the Trees : An Investigative Report
In an act of environmental diligence having practically nothing to do with messy packrat tendencies, this fearless ink slinger assembled two months worth of Confidential Information. All mailed by JP Morgan Chase. To one household. An average law abiding household. With no relation to any Vanderbilts or Rockefellers or Hiltons.
This morning, I put on safety glasses and earplugs and a white lab coat. I fired up the shredder. After four hours of backbreaking labor, I meticulously collected all the shredded JP Morgan Chase Detritus into one extra large Hefty bag, and measured it to be 26" tall by 19" in diameter.
Because of my dedication to hard science, I enlisted a Certified Professional in Soil Erosion and Sediment Control. My brother calculated the volume of the JP Morgan Chase Detritus to be 4.2677 cubic feet or 7,374.7 cubic inches.
Since my stash of JP Morgan Chase Detritus represents only one-sixth of year, I used a formula in Microsoft Excel to extrapolate that this amounts to 25.6062 cubic feet of shredded paper annually.
Therefore, I could easily become one of those batshit crazy old ladies living in a house completely filled up with yellowing stained paper, except for one little trail to the bathroom. I'd just have to be a JP Morgan Chase client for like, two years. Thank you for the option, JP Morgan Chase.
You might be thinking: why don't you ask your JP Morgan Chase account executive financial planner to stop your snail mail? After all, it is 2007. Your reports are available online. Hello. What do you think we are, soft-spoken sissypants? Of course we told our account executive financial planner to cut it with the metric assload of envelopes. The door of our mailbox fell off from the overstuffing. We told her that. Maybe five times.
Unfortunately, she says she can't. Corporate policy. Something to do with the kind of account we have. Seems that unfortunately we own one of those dreaded Accounting for the Deforestation of America JP Morgan Chase Accounts.
Jamie Dimon, CEO of JP Morgan Chase must have it in for trees.
{{According to ConservaTree, 1 tree makes 16 reams of paper.}}
This morning, I put on safety glasses and earplugs and a white lab coat. I fired up the shredder. After four hours of backbreaking labor, I meticulously collected all the shredded JP Morgan Chase Detritus into one extra large Hefty bag, and measured it to be 26" tall by 19" in diameter.
Because of my dedication to hard science, I enlisted a Certified Professional in Soil Erosion and Sediment Control. My brother calculated the volume of the JP Morgan Chase Detritus to be 4.2677 cubic feet or 7,374.7 cubic inches.
Since my stash of JP Morgan Chase Detritus represents only one-sixth of year, I used a formula in Microsoft Excel to extrapolate that this amounts to 25.6062 cubic feet of shredded paper annually.
Therefore, I could easily become one of those batshit crazy old ladies living in a house completely filled up with yellowing stained paper, except for one little trail to the bathroom. I'd just have to be a JP Morgan Chase client for like, two years. Thank you for the option, JP Morgan Chase.
You might be thinking: why don't you ask your JP Morgan Chase account executive financial planner to stop your snail mail? After all, it is 2007. Your reports are available online. Hello. What do you think we are, soft-spoken sissypants? Of course we told our account executive financial planner to cut it with the metric assload of envelopes. The door of our mailbox fell off from the overstuffing. We told her that. Maybe five times.
Unfortunately, she says she can't. Corporate policy. Something to do with the kind of account we have. Seems that unfortunately we own one of those dreaded Accounting for the Deforestation of America JP Morgan Chase Accounts.
Jamie Dimon, CEO of JP Morgan Chase must have it in for trees.
{{According to ConservaTree, 1 tree makes 16 reams of paper.}}
Comments
Just saying...