Sunday had been a long day, what with chores to finish and yet another team of techs in to work on the water heater. They checked out about 4:15; I decided maybe I might be able to squeeze in one more load of wash. At 4:23, I dialed up Dining Express and requested a No-Name from Irma’s Burger Shack. Normal delivery, I expected, would be in 55 minutes or so, and sure enough, the email confirmation came back with “Delivery: 05:18 pm.” Given my long-standing rule to WASH ALL THE THINGS, I peeled down to, well, nothing, and loaded up the washer.
The call came at 4:30. “We’re running about 15 minutes behind,” explained the Dining Express person. Well, yeah, what with the Marathon going on, traffic was bound to be flaky.
“So, a quarter to six, then? That’s fine.”
I had just loaded my tray with newly-dry towels when the doorbell rang. It was, um, 5:18. This would normally be a bathrobe moment, but the robe in question was not to be had just then, because Wash All The Things. I shouted a warning through the front door, and popped it open.
A fortyish chap with an insulated bag stood there. “You know, the first time I go to an address, I never know just what to expect.” I came back with an idiot grin; he added, “Just last week I got caught that way.”
About a quarter to six, halfway through a basket of hand-cut fries, it occurred to me. On the checkout page there is always a section for “Special instructions for driver.” I wondered for a moment: what would happen if I filled in that box with, say, “Customer wears no clothes, but you won’t see anything”? Because they really won’t see anything; the walker blocks the view. Would they stop delivering here? I’m not sure I want to take that chance.