Pick-UPS

As I opened the rear door of Williams-Sonoma this morning to greet the UPS man, I was relieved to know he only had eight boxes to drop off for me (as opposed to 207 dropped off the day before). The UPS man slid open the latch and forced the heavy brown door upwards with a hard shove, making it clang once it reached the end of its tracks. PDT in hand (that's code for little scanner thing), I approached the truck to scan in the first box of the day.

"Better not get too close, " he said, "I had a burrito for breakfast this morning, so I have a little gas."

Uh...awkward! I thought. Who says that kind of thing to a perfect stranger? I laughed politely, then continued to scan the remaining seven boxes as if he had said nothing, hoping, praying that this awkward moment would vanish.

"I'm just kidding," he chuckled. "I don't really have gas."

Let's hope not, you social outcast, I shot back at him telepathically, an act which coincided with the loading of the last box of salt and pepper shakers onto the rickety red dolly. (Thank goodness!) He handed me the keypad and I quickly signed my name, trying to ignore his joke about the Specially Hard and Intense Training truck he was assigned to that day.

"Thank you, Miss Rich," he said.

Misses Rich, I wanted to hiss. MISSES Rich.

Perhaps he should pick up some manners before he returns with the next shipment.