The Devil Wears Brown

I work for a company that gets daily UPS deliveries. And by a stroke of luck, it just so happens that my office is where the boys in brown choose to plop their packages before literally sticking their little signature pad in my face without regard to whatever else I may be doing. God forbid I’m on the phone or in the middle of writing something because then comes the dramatically loud sigh or the vigorous clearing of a throat…plainly signaling me drop whatever I’m doing at all costs so that they may have my undivided attention.

Some days I’m tempted to offer them a lozenge from the depths of my desk. Of course I’d have to pry it from the bottom of the drawer but surely it’s still good. It’s only been there since last Christmas…or was it the winter before that?

No matter.

Pluck off that bit of lint and they’ll be none the wiser.

If they choke on it…even better.

Nevertheless, most of the time I do stop to sign the proffered tablet just so I can rid myself of them. Though between you and me, I’m not even sure why I bother. Before I’ve even gotten past the first three letters of my name, their hands are already snaking towards the tablet, fingers visibly trembling with the desire to snatch the thing right out of my hands.

The pressure to write faster than I can blink has become so great that I’ve taken to sneaking from my office when I realize they’ve entered the building. On the days when my warnings come a bit late, it’s admittedly less like sneaking and more like hurling myself out the door. Though of course not every escape attempt is a successful one. I once ran face first into the UPS man’s chest, nearly knocking us both over. Imagine my disappointment when instead of reaching out a hand to steady me, he handed me the tablet.

Always the gentleman.

Personally, I think they take great fun in watching me scribble my signature with tortuous speed. Maybe if I sign as, “Asshole” next time they’ll get the picture.