Showing posts with label delivery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label delivery. Show all posts

Thursday, October 13, 2022

Story 461: Bringing Home the Office

(In an office)

Manager: (Sitting at a desk across from Employee) Well, that’s all settled then: starting Monday, you’ll be joining the ranks of the layabouts who won the lazy lottery and get to – (Does extreme air quotes) “work” from home, yay for you.

Employee: (Shifts uncomfortably in the chair) But I actually like coming into the office –

Manager: (Had turned to the computer to type an angry e-mail while Employee was speaking) Of course, nobody asked me if I wanted half my department slacking off on social media or playing with their kids or doing their laundry or skiing in the Alps while logging in every 30 minutes for show while productivity flushes itself down the economical toilet, ohhhhhh noooooo!!!!  (Rage types faster)

Employee: Well, maybe I can volunteer to stay –

Manager: Buuuuut – (Turns back to Employee) I’m just middle management, whereas upper management has the final say-so, so here we are.  (The two stare at each other for a bit) I guess I’m supposed to say it’s been nice working with you, but I won’t.

Employee: Um, we’re still going to communicate with each other every day though, right?

Manager: Oh yeah, but since it’ll be only e-mails and phone calls and group chats and long-distance what-not, going forward you could be a robot for all I know.  (Tears off a piece of paper from a packet and hands it to Employee) Here’s your ticket.

Employee: (Stares at it for a bit) Ticket… to ride?

Manager: Heh-heh, I wish: it’s from I.T.; they’re going to ship you the work-from-home office set-up you’ll need to install before Monday; it’ll probably show up early Saturday at this point.  Electricity’s on your dime, but I’m told it’s a tax write-off for you freeloaders.

Employee: Oh.  OK.  Are there going to be instructions on how to install the computer and other stuff that comes with it?

Manager: (Laughs hysterically, then stops abruptly) You can go now.  (Employee rushes out the door as Manager returns to pounding the long-suffering keyboard) Wonder if I’ll actually miss any of my underlings once they stop coming here…. [TYPE-TYPE-TYPE-] Probably not.

 EARLY SATURDAY

(Employee, wearing pajamas and hastily tying a robe, answers the insistent knocking at the front door of the house)

Employee: (Rubs sleepy eyes) Yes?

Courier: (Holding up a clipboard) This you?

Employee: (Squints at the text) Um, yes – who are you?

Courier: Delivering your work-from-home office – sign here, please.

Employee: (Signs) What exactly am I signing?

Courier: You really should ask that before you sign something, you know.

Employee: Thanks for the tip.  (Hands back the clipboard)

Courier: It’s the receipt acknowledging delivery.  (Rips off a page from the clipboard and hands it over) Your copy.  (Turns to the backed-in truck that is parked in the driveway) ALL RIGHT, BRING IT ON OUT!

(Employee stares in horror as the open back door of the truck reveals a forklift hauling an entire office onto the driveway, complete with desk, chair, computer set with three monitors, printer, scanner, carpeting, three walls with huge paintings on each, two large armchairs, a couch, and a water cooler)

Employee: What the blazes is this?!

Courier: (Half turns to Employee while directing the forklift driver) Your work-from-home office – want it in the carport or on the front lawn?

Employee: I want it gone!  This must be a mistake – I’m only meant to get a computer!

Courier: You did.  (Points to the computer on the ornate desk)

Employee: But what’s all this other – (Waves arms frantically at the office) stuff?!

Courier: The office – it’s right here on your ticket.  (Points to the paper Employee is holding, then turns fully back to the forklift driver) Set it down in the carport!

Employee: But my car’s in there!

Courier: (Peers behind Employee) Oh yeah – think you can move it?

Employee: Where?!  You’re blocking me in!

Courier: Oh yeah.  (To the forklift driver) Set it down on the front lawn!

Employee: No-no-no, take it back!

Courier: What for?  We don’t need it.

Employee: How’m I supposed to get all this inside the house?!

Courier: Most people we send this to wind up breaking it down or shoving it in somewhere; all I know is, not our jurisdiction, we just deliver.  (The forklift driver sets down the office on the front lawn, then zoom back into the truck) There we go!  Call your I.T. department if you have any questions – we’re off!

Employee: But – !  (The truck drives away; in a small voice) Where do I even begin?

 TEN HOURS LATER

(Employee sweatily plugs the last cable into the last port surrounded by the swarming cables feeding all over the computer and accessories, then collapses on the couch while the rest of the lights and appliances in the house dip with the power drain as all the office equipment pieces start up.  Waking from a short doze, Employee then staggers to the desk and collapses onto the comfy chair while signing into the network and activating apps needed for the new work station.  After navigating in circles for some time, Employee testily picks up a cell phone and places a call)

I.T. Rep: I.T., how may I assist you?

Employee: Hi, I received a work-from-home kit that has literally taken over my living room and kitchen, and something’s not working right.

I.T. Rep: Oh, you’re one of the remote workers for the company now?  My condolences.

Employee: Thank you.  The issue is, I shockingly got everything installed and logged into the network, but try as I might, I can’t seem to find my department’s shared drive.

I.T. Rep.: OK, let’s take a look – mind if I remote in?

Employee: That seems to be the theme of the month, yes.

I.T. Rep: (Works with Employee to remote into the computer) Ah, I see what it is: according to your ticket, you were supposed to receive the “Junior Associate Work-From-Home Kit,” and instead you got the “Executive Work-From-Home Suite.”

Employee: (Flatly) What.

I.T. Rep: Is it true that it’s got a mini-bar with chocolate truffles and flavored water?  I’ve always wanted to see one of those, if you could turn on your webcam a second for me.

Employee: So, what, we can just swap out the computer then, right?

I.T. Rep: Actually, we’re going to have to swap out the whole office: employees at your level aren’t supposed to get all that stuff, like the whirlpool bath and the massage table and the –

Employee: (Has been roaming the office and uncovering all these things tucked away, waiting to unfurl) It took me half a day to get this monstrosity in here, and now you’re telling me I’ve got to take it all out and then put in another one?

I.T. Rep: If it makes you feel any better, the other one is much smaller.

Employee: It doesn’t!  I am keeping this thing I’ve developed love-hate feelings for, and you are going to make this work!

I.T. Rep: (Sighs, then starts typing) I guess I could just promote your job title in the network’s directory and give you top clearance, and that would allow you then to access the drive through this computer as an executive – I’m sure there’s no real harm in doing that….

Employee: (Settles into the whirlpool bath with a bottle of the flavored water and smooth jazz playing over the speakers) I like the way you think.

Thursday, December 9, 2021

Story 419: Delivery for Santa and Mrs. Claus

 (In a crowded post office in mid-December)

Postal Worker 1: (Processing transactions on autopilot) Anything liquid, fragile, hazardous, or perishable –

Customer 1: No.

Postal Worker 1: Need guaranteed two-day delivery for an extra $22.65 –

Customer 1: No.

Postal Worker 1: Need any stamps –

Customer 1: No-no-no-what’s-the-total?

Postal Worker 1: (Types a few keys after weighing the packages) $172.49.

Customer 1: (Roughly swipes a credit card through the reader on the counter) This is the last time I’m sending those brats what they demand on their gimme list – next year everyone’s getting gift cards and they can buy their own garbage.

Postal Worker 1: That’s my philosophy.  (Moves the packages to another area for shipping and hands over the receipt) Happy Holidays.

Customer 1: (Shoves the receipt into a wallet) Thanks, but they haven’t been for years.  (Navigates through the crowd to the exit in a funk)

Postal Worker 1: (Mutters while running a report on the cash register) I hear ya.  (Peers closer at the computer screen as Customer 2 approaches the counter) What do you mean, the drawer’s short $9.72?!  I’ve barely opened it today!

Postal Worker 2: (Stationed at the next register; does not look up from processing a transaction) All I know is, if this sound system plays “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” one more time, my brain’s gonna melt right outta my ears.

Postal Worker 1: (Still staring at the computer screen as Customer 2 places a package on the counter) Yeah, that one and “Jingle Bells.”  Or “Deck the Halls.”  Or – you know what, pretty much all of them; just give me silence as the soundtrack for the rest of the year.  (Glances up and sees Customer 2 is a 10-year-old child) Hello, how can I help you today – need any stamps?

Customer 2: I have a delivery for Santa and Mrs. Claus, please.

Postal Worker 1: (Turns attention back to the computer screen) Letters to Santa go in the special mailbox in the lobby.

Customer 2: Oh no, this actually is a gift – for Santa and Mrs. Claus.  (Postal Worker 1 looks up sharply) I mean, they give so much to all of us, I just wanted to give them a small token of appreciation, if that’s all right.

Postal Worker 1: (Solemnly straightens up, pulls out a golden whistle from an uniform pocket, and fills the building with a resounding blast – all activity on the line, at the counter, and in the back room come to a complete halt) Attention, staff members: WE HAVE A DELIVERY FOR SANTA AND MRS. CLAUS.

(The overhead music screeches to a stop; an inner door at the other end of the lobby flies open and a bundled-up figure driving a dogsled bursts through the crowd to stop in front of Customer 2)

Dogsled Driver: (Points to the box) This the package for the Clauses?

Customer 2: (Nods while pulling out money from pants pockets) Yes, please – how much does shipping to the North Pole cost?

Postal Worker 1: (Wiping away tears) It’s free, bless your little child heart!  Anything liquid, fragile, hazardous, or perishable?

Customer 2: (Pauses, then shakes head) No, nothing like that.  (Picks up the box and hands it to the Dogsled Driver) I think I got here early enough for this to arrive before Christmas Eve, right?

Dogsled Driver: (Straps the box securely to the sled) Oh, don’t you worry young’un: I’ll get this there in less than a day.  (Gestures to the dog team) They fly like the reindeer, and only go on strike half as much.

Lead Dog: That reminds me: we’re due for one on December 28, if that’s convenient.

Dogsled Driver: (Checks a pocket calendar) Yep, all good for a work stoppage then.  (Hops onto the back of the sled)  Mush, please.  (As the dogs pull the sled back through the lobby and out the front door) Onward to the North Pole!

(The other customers and postal workers applaud wildly and weep loudly in equal measure)

Customer 2: (To Postal Worker 1) Wow, thanks – after all this, I hope they like it.

Postal Worker 1: (Loudly blowing nose) Stop, I’m dissolving in a puddle of cuteness overload here!

(In the North Pole, Dogsled Driver arrives at the house of the Clauses, releases the package from its straps, and raps smartly on the front door)

Santa Claus: (Opening the door) Well ho-ho-hold the phone, I haven’t seen you up here in ages!

Dogsled Driver: (Hands over the package) Hiya, Santa – I have a very special delivery for you and Mrs. Claus from a very special child in the Lower 48 of the US of A.

Santa Claus: Aw, isn’t that precious.  (Calls back into the house) Darling!  There’s a delivery – for us!

Mrs. Claus: (Appears in the doorway carrying a blowtorch and lifting up a face shield) Well, that is very kind indeed – (Sees Dogsled Driver) Hello there; why don’t you and your crew come into the kitchen for milk and cookies?  I’ve got them in oatmeal raisin and bacon.

Dogsled Driver: Gee, thanks Mrs. Claus!  You know, I tried extra hard to be good this year –

Lead Dog: Quit yer yappin’: we’re already getting the treats, don’t gild the lily!  (The dogs drag the sled into the house, Driver holding on at the back)

(Santa and Mrs. Claus close the door and bring the package into a brightly decorated room filled with ornament-festooned trees, toys, model villages, and other seasonal knick-knacks.  They open the box and take out several pairs of different-colored comfy socks, along with a note)

Santa Claus: (Reads) “Dear Santa and Mrs. Claus, I hope I got the right sizes, but if not then I hope your magic can take care of that; I included the gift receipts just in case.  Anyway, thank you for all you do every year, and please know that we all appreciate the good will and cheer you bring to this world.  Sincerely, A Grateful Child (My parents say a gift should be given without expecting anything in return so that’s why this is anonymous, but you may know it’s me anyway)”.  Sweet child, Santa always knows!

Mrs. Claus: (Picks up one of the pairs of socks) Oh my, so very cozy!  These’ll be perfect for my sore feet – how thoughtful!

Santa Claus: (While holding up another pair) And just when I was starting to question why I continue to put us all through this.

Mrs. Claus: Don’t you question that every year?

Santa Claus: Some years more so than others.

Thursday, November 11, 2021

Story 415: Reverse Porch Pirates on the Residential Seas

 (While walking from the car to the condo unit, Resident checks a message on the phone that shows a package had been delivered; on arrival at the front door, it is seen that no package awaits.  Squinting closer at the photo of the delivery on the phone, realization dawns upon Resident)

Resident: Wait a minute – that is not my front door!  (Looks at own front door and back at the photo again to confirm) They delivered it to the wrong address!  Great, how am I ever gonna figure out which – (Recognizes the “Keep Out!” and similar signs posted on the door in the photo) oh it’s the next hallway over.

(Resident goes to the next hallway over, stares at the now-empty space where the package was delivered, and knocks on the door.  On the other side, a figure wearing a stereotypical pirate outfit opens it with one hand while holding an umbrella drink in the other; a large group of similarly-dressed colleagues are assembled in the living room, partying with DJ’d music)

Captain: (To Resident) Ahoy, matey – who be ye?

Resident: Hi, I’m your neighbor from the next hallway over –

Captain: Aye?

Resident: – and I had a package delivered today –

Captain: Aye?

Resident: – and I think it was delivered here by mistake.

Captain: Aye.

Resident: …Well?

Captain: Aye?

Resident: Was it delivered here?

Captain: Aye.  `Twas.  (Reaches over to a nearby table and holds up a pair of novelty socks) These be it?

Resident: Ah, yes, great!  (The two stare at each other for a few moments) Soooo….

Captain: Aye?

Resident: Could I have them back then?!

Captain: Nay.  (Tosses away the socks; they land on a dancing crew member)

Resident: What?!

First Mate: (Shouts from serving drinks at the bar stationed next to a lamp table) N – A – Y; means “No.”

Resident: I know what “Nay” means!  (Back to Captain) Why not?!

Captain: You see, young me-hearty, me and me crew here have recently retired from plunderin’ the high seas, so now rather than us goin’ to get the booty, we take the booty that be comin’ to us, you savvy?

Dancing Crew: Savvyyyyyy!!!!

Resident: Well, no, that’s not right – it was clearly addressed to me!

Captain: Ah, but in cases such as these, possession be 10/10ths of the law.

Dancing Crew: Yarrrrr!!!

Resident: (Holds up the phone with the screen facing Captain) But the courier who messed this up sent me a picture of it, so you’ve gotta give it back `cause the courts’ll side with me anyway!

Captain: (Downs the rest of the umbrella drink, smashes the glass onto a nearby wall, and draws a cutlass to point at Resident) What need we of courts when this can be settled as true buccaneers of the seven seas, eh, matey?

Dancing Crew: Arrrrr!!!

Captain: Aye.

Dancing Crew: Ayyyyye!!!

Resident: I’m not fighting you!

Captain: Aha!  Ye be a coward, then!

Resident: I be – I mean, I’m not getting into a knife fight over a pair of socks!

Captain: How dare ye!  This be a cutlass!  (Shakes said cutlass in Resident’s face)  It can slice a grapefruit in perfect twain and yet leave the pulp entirely intact with nary a drop spilt – let us see a piddlin’ knife do that, I ask ye!

Resident: Whatever: I’ll just call the cops on you for theft of property and threat of dismemberment.  (Starts dialing)

Captain: What about yer sense of honor?!

First Mate: (Shouts from the bar) But Captain, we have none.

Captain: Stow yer blowhole!

Resident: (On the phone) Yes, I’ll hold.  (To Captain) Everywhere you call lately, they put you on hold immediately.

Captain: We’ll be havin’ none of yer first world problems around here, matey!  (Uses the cutlass to pick up the socks from where they had been dumped onto the couch at some point and flings them at Resident, who fumblingly catches them) That booty was acquired fair and square, but in the spirit of high adventure, we gift them back to ye.  (Bows graciously)

Resident: (Disconnects the call and shakes the socks at Captain) That’s all you had to do from the beginning.  (Starts to leave when Captain holds out the cutlass to block the path)

Captain: (Leans in toward Resident) Next time, matey, we be keepin’ the spoils.  Permanently.

Dancing Crew: Huzzah!

Captain: (Turns back to Crew) Another round!  Me throat’s extremely parched with all this negotiatin`!

Dancing Crew: Ayyyye!!!!

(Captain slams the door and the dance music is raised to even higher decibels)

Resident: (Walks back to the other hallway while shaking head in disbelief, looks down at the socks, holds them out, and stops) I don’t believe it – they shipped me the wrong size!

Thursday, December 5, 2019

Story 318: All I Want for Christmas Is Nothing to Give and Nothing to Get


Dear Santa,

            I am a reasonable human being.  I like to think I have a firm grasp on reality.  So I am not going to mince words with you: this Christmas, I will not ask for one single present, from you or from anyone else, at all, not one.  In return, I only ask that I not be required, requested, and/or obligated to give one single present, to you or to anyone else, at all, not one.
            To put it bluntly, Mr. Claus, I simply cannot take it any longer.  Everyone complains, yet they compulsively do it anyway: you know what I mean, the massive, overwhelming, soul-destroying marathon that is holiday shopping.  Many of us have too much stuff as it is, but there we all go, off to the sales races again.  And so we go through the motions, year after dreaded year, piling into horrendous traffic, piling into overcrowded stores, piling into the worst zeniths of consumerism, stuff, stuff, stuff.  Will all that stuff fill the empty void currently taking up residence in our hearts?   The answer of course is “No,” but most act as if it is “Yes.”
            And as the coins in my piggy bank dwindle, I question the point of the whole thing.  Why do we continue to give gifts if the process of getting them has made the giver so utterly unhappy?  Does the recipient’s brief, passing joy make all that suffering worth it?  I guess.  Still does not make up for the four hours I will never get back from the mass chaos that is the mall.  How is that all of us always decide to go there at the same time, anyway?
            I would also like to discuss the futility of sending holiday cards, but that is too off-topic and would require a ream of paper to address adequately.
           Returning to the issue at hand, I would like to speak to the conundrum of online shopping: convenient for the consumer, perhaps, but inconvenient for the delivery person who now is in the previously mentioned traffic and also for the warehouse employee who has added your order to the 7,322 others waiting to be filled that day.  But it is guaranteed next-day delivery, since unnamed shopper forgot to order it until two days before the main event of Christmas or Hanukkah.
           Not to mention (but I will anyway), I have no idea what to get people, including members of my own family, unless they specifically tell me what they want.  Opera tickets?  A wooden sleigh?  Gift cards for soon-to-be-out-of-business restaurants?  It is exhausting trying to figure out a gift that will not be returned.
            I just cannot bear the stress of it all anymore, so I beg of you: please do not give me anything this year, and let me be relieved of the burden of having to give presents to anyone.  If you are so gracious as to grant this request, I warn you now I may ask for it again next year.
           I write to you every December, and in all my 42 years on this planet I have yet to receive a bona fide response from you or your staff.  I would greatly appreciate it if this year's anti-consumerism theme ended that streak.

                                                                        Always Affectionately Yours,

                                                                        Little Johnny