Through the Eyes of a Delivery Goddess |
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Several years back, Bob decided we could make a few extra bucks delivering Auto Traders all over Allegheny and Beaver counties. Bob had more books, but less miles, and I took the higher mileage area with less books, since I knew the roads. It was NEVER my favorite job - I rolled with it for several months, but finally started to express my dissatisfaction with the abundance of miles for the money. When the guy in charge decided that we should move our boxes around, I really made a fuss. You've seen the coin boxes for the newspaper where you open the door and pull out the paper ... these were similar boxes, but since the periodicals were free (requiring no coins to open the door), the boxes doubled as garbage cans, ash trays, and occasionally bar stools, judging from the indentations on the tops of some of the boxes in Ambridge. Many of the boxes in Beaver County never dispensed any from one week to the next, and when I complained, the boss said, "I'll pay you to move the boxes to someplace you think will get more traffic." We never saw that money, but that 's another story. Sometime between the end of my rope and the day I tried to move a half dozen of the boxes (by myself), one day stands out in my memory. It was pouring down rain - I don't recall it stopping anytime between the time we picked up the books around 9am and the time I finally dribbled into the door at home around 4pm. I know I had four major experiences that day; I don't recall exactly what the first one was off hand. Already sufficiently damp, I was standing at a box on the street in Avalon and a PAT bus went roaring past, kicking up a rooster tail of water at least waist high, all over me and into the box. I looked at the wet books, and decided not to care about it. I made probably a dozen more stops before I got to a store in West View where I was to walk inside and place the Auto Trader books on a news stand rack right inside the front door. As I approached the front door, one of the store workers came out with a broom. I stopped, unsure of his exact pathway, but he too, stopped just on the outside of the door, blocking the entrance. He lifted the broom and proceeded to push up from the underside of the canvas awning hanging over the entry. Any guesses on where the 30 or so gallons of water that had been laying in the awning went? He looked at me as the last five gallons rushed down over my head and nervously said, "Oh, I'm sorry," and quickly turned to walk back inside. I think he turned so quickly to keep from laughing in my face, which I'm certain was not showing any signs of return laughter. Now, I know I was already wet, but now I was DRIPPING wet. My car seat was already damp, but this would create a puddle on my seat!! It was later than usual, I felt like my day was not only going bad, but was being stretched into a week. I had three stops left by 3pm. I got out at a bus stop where there was a variety of six or seven different media boxes, from freebies to newspaper coin boxes. If you couldn't find something there to read on your bus ride, then you need a life change. A cop stopped and yelled at me about where my car was parked. I had my hazzard lights on, but he was still unhappy. I yelled back, that if he'd leave me alone, I would only be about 60 seconds, and then I'd be on my way. He shook his head and waved me off as I bent over to open the door of the box.  I let the door slam shut again and looked around. I opened it slowly, and yes, I really DID see a turkey leg and foot laying on top of the old books. I don't mean the bones left from someone's lunch. I mean a real, been cut from the turkey and thrown into the box, foot. Again, I let the door shut and looked around for a hidden camera, or camera crew, but there was no Alan Funt - no Ashton Kutcher - no one with a microphone or camera, and no bystanders whispering to each other. Well, Bob would never believe me, so I scooped up the foot inside a plastic newspaper bag and brought it home. I don't remember finishing the last two stops that day, but, that was the day that broke the camel's back. The next week, in an effort to cut down my miles, I moved a half dozen boxes, turned them in, and when our next paycheck did not reflect the extra work, we turned in our resignation.
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