A Letter For The Perfect Referral
A new communion of man and mechanical machine
A couple weeks before Christmas something special happened. A friend of mine reached out to me asking where I got my typewriter. They wanted to buy one for their significant other as a gift but had googled where to buy one locally and came up empty.
There are lots of good feelings that humans can experience - being able to make a referral for a typewriter has to be in the top 1%. Lots of people have “guys” (or “gals”) for things - a great mechanic or tailor, someone who’s always got the hookup on event/show/game tickets, or maybe even a political connection. How many people have a direct connect to a typewriter dealer?
I responded immediately
“I got you”
My oxytocin and dopamine were firing hard. I flipped to a new text and reached out to my dealer.
“Hey I got a friend who wants a typewriter - you got any good ones available right now”
Bad news - “I maybe have one ready, but I’m out of town for 3 weeks, can’t help until then” he replied.
(Inside my brain) Shoot! I can’t come through for my friend! How can I make this work?
My dealer beat me to it though. He suggested we make a redeemable coupon and when he got back home he would fix up 2-3 models and let me know when my friend could come over for a private curated shopping experience.
Such a great idea.
He sent me some copy for the coupon and I typed it up on my typewriter that I bought from him.
It needed a little extra touch, so I packaged it up in my A Letter For packaging and delivered it to my friend.
On Christmas my friend (the one receiving the typewriter coupon) shot me a text professing his excitement. He had wanted a typewriter ever since I showed him mine about 10 months prior.
Then we waited.
As the excitement died down over the next 10 or so days, my expectations internally went through the roof. I wanted the curated shopping experience to be so perfect. I built up all these false narratives and unrealistic scenarios for how it would all go down.
My typewriter dealer sent me a few messages.
“I’ll be ready next week - I’ve got 3 machines I’ll have ready and they are beauties. I almost can’t resist sending you pictures but I want it to be a surprise for you as well”
The expectations grew larger. I had put myself in this middle-man position too. The way everything played out I became the facilitator of the “event” and it’s never been my strong suit to play that role (I’m much better at just showing up and having a great time). I started relaying the progress and trying to coordinate the date and time.
Way over my head and stumbling through this role we finally nailed down a time to meet. Until we didn’t. The day before the plans fell apart for no fault or reason of really anyone, but I got frustrated.
My wife reminded me that I can’t get worked up about things not in my control, after all, that’s what my stoic philosophers were teaching me lately. Great advice, I just needed to action it.
I also needed to tamp down my expectations, ground them in reality, and just let things be. Eventually my friend sent a note.
“hey let’s make this thing happen I’m getting itchy to get my typewriter - I’ve got some creative stuff I’m holding on to that I need to type out”
With some pointed energy and flexibility, the opportunity arose and all parties jumped on it.
That day was today.
A typewriter was chosen. An old machine became new again and handed over to a trusted source. New life to creative work was born. Man and machine became connected. What a beautiful thing.
The crazy part was my expectations were far exceeded. The typewriter dealer came through big time - these machines he fixed up were gorgeous. Absolute works of art. All mid-1900’s machines from Germany and all unique in style and form.
He gave this incredible run down of each machine and why he chose it, their pros and cons and little unique pieces to them. He set the table perfectly until the machines were ready to try.
My friend could barely contain himself by the time he got to hit the keys. He learned quickly that you can’t just press those keys like a computer, it takes some panache and exuberance to hit them and make a clean mark. We gave him a little coaching, he figured it out quick, and then he got to messing with all the machines.
As most typewriter folks know, the machine chooses you. My friend’s initial instinct for which one he liked, based on purely aesthetic style and form, was not the machine that chose him. It was the Remington Mark II, with its rubber-coated and flatter key board and Torpedo mechanicals that grabbed him tight and didn’t let him go.
You see, when you try a typewriter you sort of just know. It feels right. It responds to your touch a certain way and the connection is made. It’s a magical moment.
It was such a delight to watch someone else experience it too. We all were just giddy with excitement and full of joy.
The best part is it’s just the beginning. The timeline just started and the new communion between man and machine has several decades of work and creativity ahead of it.
If that’s not something to be grateful for - then I don’t know what is.
With love and deep appreciation,
-Andrew
PS - there are still two typewriters available in absolutely mint and working condition (the 2 Olympia De Luxe’s pictured in the gallery). If you’re interested reach out. I’d love to facilitate more of these finding their way into new homes.
I loved hearing this in depth - outside of just knowing the logistics that were frustrating you. Beautiful.