GIVE ME AN `A' . . . OR IS IT A `B'?

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, January 31, 1993                   TAG: 9301310010
SECTION: VIRGINIA                    PAGE: E1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: Ed Shamy
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium
GIVE ME AN `A' . . . OR IS IT A `B'?
A pair of seasoned old Pennsylvanians, Laura Wasko and I have developed an understanding over the years. We talk frankly and candidly about one another's shortcomings, which is the way Pennsylvanians do things.
Laura coordinates Roanoke's recycling program. She is one of the people whose vision and leadership keep us from drowning in our own filth. Thanks to her energy and dedication - and a few million dollars in tax money - Roanoke now collects recyclable materials at curbside from 16,000 households.
A couple of weeks ago, Laura and I were chatting about the untimely demise of high-density polyethylene. Pennsylvanians may be candid, but we're not all interesting or particularly skilled at conversation.
High-density polyethylene gave way in the conversation, as it always does, to talk of neighborhood recycling.
Laura inquired if I lived in an "A" neighborhood or a "B" neighborhood. The "B's" get their recycling picked up this week. The "A's" set out the goods next week.
I didn't know. I know my Social Security number, my phone number and the personal identification number for my automated teller-machine card. I think I know my blood type and my waist size. Checking-account number and recycling schedule routinely elude me.
No, I admitted to Laura Wasko. I don't know if I'm an "A" route or a "B" route. Laura didn't like to hear that. She is far too nice a person to fly into a legitimate tirade, but she did her best.
She wondered aloud if people like me would ever join the program by learning the system. She waxed indignant about our refusal to grasp a pathetically simple procedure.
To clear up the confusion once and for all, Laura said, the recycling office was publishing an easy-to-read, attractive calendar that would serve throughout 1993 as a reminder of our "A" status or our "B" status.
Meekly, chastened, I apologized to Laura Wasko for my boorish inattentiveness.
Sure enough, my calendar arrived, plastered with a sticker: "Your recycling collection schedule is: `A.' "
Finally, I could get on the program and regain my good standing with Laura Wasko, the recycling tsarina. I would never err. I was an "A." I would remember.
An apologetic form letter, signed by Laura Wasko, arrived at my home on Thursday: "Our calendar delivery crew accidentally delivered `B' calendars to your home last week. Please accept our apology and place the attached `A' sticker over the `B' sticker on your calendar . . .," began the letter.
Laura and I - Pennsylvanians, we - chatted on Friday, when I confessed that her crusade to clear up the confusion once and for all had confused me more than ever.
"You're telling me," she said. "I'm confused, too.
"These guys were told which calendars to deliver where," she said of the refuse collectors who were dispatched to fold "A" and "B" calendars into door handles.
They goofed.
"If we can't understand the program, how can we expect the public to understand?" asked Laura.
With silence, I answered her question. We're still friends, me and Laura.

by Bhavesh Jinadra by CNB