An extremely generous friend sent me some expensive scotch. I’m not a big boozer, but I do enjoy a taste of good scotch. And far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth. That would be rude.
With a delivery of this nature, an adult has to sign for it. UPS notified me that my delivery would arrive on Wednesday.
If you are a regular visitor, you may know that I am a part-time stay-at-home dad and a part-time worker at a full-time job. If this description confuses you, try living it.
My wife works floating shifts. When she works, I use vacation time and mind the boys. It’s not the perfect situation, but it helps make ends meet.
On Wednesday, my wife had an afternoon shift. When I took over childcare, UPS hadn’t come yet. No problem, we’d just stay home.
At 3:30 it was time to get Big Brother from school. We’d only be gone for 20 minutes, since we were leaving early enough to get a good spot in the car line and could be among the first out. There’d be little chance of missing UPS and its precious, precious cargo.
Leaving our neighborhood, I passed the telltale brown truck driving into it. We were still early, so I turned around. The UPS truck stopped at a house on a cross street from ours. I drove home and parked in the driveway.
The truck didn’t come. I drove down the street. It was parked in front of house at the far end of our street now, heading our way. When I turned around again the truck was gone. I was about to give up when I saw it parked in a cul-de-sac off our street. Who knew we live in a neighborhood of mail order fiends? But I suppose they need their booze too, or their blow-up dolls, or whatever. I returned to our driveway. It was getting late, but surely he would come to us next.
At last, the truck came down our street again. There was just enough time to sign, accept the coveted package and rush off to the school.
Two houses down, there’s a cross street. Defying all logic, the UPS truck turned down that street. “No! You were on our street – two houses away!” I pounded my fist on the steering wheel, as I envisioned myself explaining to the principle why I had abandoned my child at school:
“I couldn’t get here; I was waiting in my driveway for a man to give me a bottle of scotch. No, I’m not neglectful. The little boys were right there with me. We were all waiting for scotch together.”
I grunted a little Chewbacca roar as I drove toward the school. We found our place at the end of the fully developed car line and waited. A 20-minute round trip was a forlorn dream now.
There was a sticky note from the meandering driver waiting on our door. It promised two more delivery attempts. But what if he comes at the same time each day? I have terrible visions of that bottle retreating, unloved, to Scotland. Terrible visions.
UPDATE: The delivery came at 6 p.m. on Thursday. I am happy to report we were able to save this little beauty from the stigma of rejection.
Snoozing on the Sofa 
You should have called me. I would have signed for it…….providing.
Something tells me your price would be too high.
I feel your pain. That dirty UPS truck has put me through the same thing– only I get to watch from the bus stop as it heads up into my neighborhood, bound for my house, as I wait for the bus, which will be late, of course. Luckily, there are only two ways in and out of our neighborhood, so if I get out of the car and scream like a crazy person for the truck to stop, sometimes she’ll let me sign for the blow up doll I MEAN PACKAGE– I meant to say PACKAGE right then. Over Christmas, the UPS driver and I got to know each other very well. And my gigantic barking, growling, Newfoundland. She got to know her, too.
It’s good that you’ve formed a bond with your UPS driver. That will help insure that you get prompt delivery of all your . . um . . . paraphernalia.
Hey, Judgey McJudge, like you never ordered anything in a plain brown box.
My lovely new wife, Ivanka, points out that that’s the only kind of box they have in Russia.
I would have chased him down and insisted that he give me my package…if he would have objected I would have run over his foot 😉
Wow, you must really like scotch too.
I wonder if the UPS guys get to keep whatever they can’t deliver after three tries. I somehow got involved in a wine club a few years back and I was constantly chasing my case of wine that I wouldn’t drink. Most of it is still in my pantry waiting to be given away when I go to parties.
It probably would have saved you a lot of trouble if the driver had just kept your wine. Either that or you need to go to more parties to clear space in your pantry for your next ill-fated club membership.
Maybe they could deliver it to the school office for you. Then you could pick it up while you are there.
You are a genius! Do you think they’d bring it out to the car line for me?
This is like a scene right out of a sitcom. i’m picturing you as Danny Tanner right now…
Had to Google Danny Tanner. A bit after my time. I’m from the Mr. Drummond era.
Good old Mr. Drummond. I started off with him…Danny Tanner was more junior high/high school for me. And now, my kids are obsessed with watching Full House reruns. You know, because it’s from the olden times.
That’s my Leave it to Beaver.
The things we do for booze…
Isn’t that a song?
Why… yes it is.
It was beginning to sound as if the UPS guy had broken into your cherished bottle, Scott. But the good guy won and drinks were cherished. Yay! I love happy endings.
It was touch and go for a while, but the most deserving one got the scotch in the end – just like the way it’s supposed to be.
[…] she could sound him out about whether he liked playing make-believe. But since we didn’t have any mail order scotch in transit, the UPS guy didn’t show. I convinced her I should be Batman. Yes, I’d be recognized, […]