After all, the golden rule of writing is "Read what you know."
While I read, the company that would receive the sweet treats grew impatient, and my boss contacted me about the status of the baking. I used my pager (yes) to inform him that we were waiting for the apricot cookies to cool.
I continued reading.
Business.
When making large deliveries to big, dumb skyscrappies, sometimes an escort will be employed to make sure you don't steal important plans or pens. My escort on this cake delivery was a mild mannered man in his late twenties. He's always been nice to me.
Today on our freight elevator ride he opened up to me about his personal life.
"Females, man."
His ex-wife is giving him hell about not buying enough summer outfits for their infant daughter. I remained empathetic and neutrally male, and said things like "can't have it both ways" and "that's a lot of money". Then I delivered the cake and the cooled apricot cookies and returned to my simple life.
A magazine about money was sent on a direct service to a mental ward in Evanston. Most of the patients walked with a slow or broken gait. A man in a suit and combed hair approached the main lobby receptionists, a gaggle that hadn't had a giggle in some time. As I walked the magazine to the administrative office, I heard the man in the suit calmly and firmly declare, "Fuck you" and walk out.
Then it was time to go out to Niles to pick up 40 cartons of pre-made catered meals for a fancy fat ass conference at a fancy fat ass downtown hotel. The client said one van would be able to take them all. Upon arrival, it was discovered that we could only fit 12 cartons in my van.
Business.
Communication.
Synergy.
Incentivize.
Virtualization.
So I lugged as much tangible crap as I could through real-life crap traffic to the crap 'n' mortar hotel in sixty actual minutes.
At the loading dock, I spoke with a man through a tiny sliding window, and informed him that I was here to deliver some-
"Yeah, yeah, I'll call them," I heard under the noise inherent to loading docks.
I tried to give him more information about what I was delivering and to whom it would-
Shuck.
The window slid shut.
I unloaded the cartons and sat in the van waiting and reading.
A few chapters later, I went back to the loading dock attendant and asked him if there had been any word on this delivery I was making.
He seemed agitated.
"How am I supposed to know?"
I told him I thought he was going to call upstairs.
"How am I supposed to know who all this is for?"
He talked to me like I was an idiot.
I was an idiot for thinking that the loading dock attendant would have anything to do with the goings on in the loading dock.
I calmly explained that I had heard him say earlier that he would make a call to find out about the delivery.
"Is that what you heard?" he laughed.
Shuck.
I used to get upset by these things.
I'm actually getting better at handling it.
Here's the key: I get paid to wait.
So I called my boss, told him what was up, and waited and waited for the fatso hotel to get its shit together. Eventually while I was deep into my book, two guys barked at me sharply.
"IS THIS ALL!?"
"WE WERE EXPECTING A TRUCK!"
I told them they should have hired a company that uses trucks, and offered a crocodile apology.
Eventually they warmed up to me.
We were all participating in a grand clusterfuck, and they decided to laugh it off.
I even laughed.
And waited additional twenty minute$ for someone to sign for the delivery.
No one ever did.
Verdict: Win
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