“Hi, I noticed on your billboard that you offer delivery…” she said.
“Yes,” I replied. “Within Baker City limits.”
“Well, we’re a bit outside of Baker,” she replied.
“Ahhh, well… we’re slow. I’ll bring it out after 5 o’clock when we have another gal to watch the front.”
“GREAT!” she exclaimed, then gave me her order.
Directly after 5 p.m., I took off on this delivery. I arrived at their home at 5:28 p.m., after dodging three deer and 2 tractor-pulls driving at about 20mph on the rural highway.
Honestly, it was the most relaxing, beautiful drive I’ve done in months. Enormous mountain ranges, fields of green for miles, blue skies & crisp, green air whipping through my bitchin’ mini-van. I listened to sports-talk radio the entire drive, and yelled at the radio when the commentary began bad-mouthing Brett Favre.
It was almost as if I had an hour off of work. Cruising.
When I got back to work, however, it was anything but copacetic. Tickets had piled up, and I was back in “work mode” before I could tell the kitchen my story of Patches, the dog that had greeted me upon my arrival at that last delivery.
We won’t deliver that far out of town again, but I wish we could. Certainly not at $4.27/gallon and taking the delivery van outside of town for 45 minutes.
Yet, it might be cheaper to continue rural deliveries than to hire a therapist, no?