I really need to get that sign removed from my forehead…
Certainly in my life I’ve developed cordial relationships with the delivery people– there was that brown clad delivery man with the handlebar mustache from the days on Main St. (many moons ago). There’s the nice orange / blue guy from my last job, who finally remembered my last name after months of trying, just before I quit. There’s the postal service lady at my house who I only see on Saturdays. You say hi, have a nice day, thanks for the delivery, right? Isn’t that normal?
Today, at my new job (the job I’ve had for 3 whole days)… and, in fact, hadn’t met any of our mail or delivery people yet. Yeah, so the mail lady comes in today to get something signed for and then, on her way out the door, mentions that she’s having knee replacement surgery on the 6th so the post will be less prompt while they’ve got subs for awhile. I smile and say something like “I hope it goes well, have a good thanksgiving!”
She must have turned for a second look and saw the sign on my forehead: “Please tell me your problems.” It turned into a 15 minute stop, she came in and let the door close behind her and told all about her knee, the history of it, the drug addict who hit her, the pre-surgery surgery last year, that her doc was out for awhile and his partner was trying to cover all his patients, how glad she is to have the surgery now, even though it is a long recovery… oh yeah, we got details. She was very friendly, but I was trying to head out to have lunch with a friend. Finally I cut off the story by putting on my own coat, she follows me out and continues to tell me about her retirement, the shame these awful taxes are, and just keeps going… She was very sweet. And I was late for lunch.
Take down the sign already Reenie.