Friday, September 23, 2011

Dinner's Here!

I'd like to preface this story with a little tidbit of information about myself: I don't embarass easily. I'm pretty adept at finding the humor in uncomfortable situations and I have no problem laughing at myself. Plus, humiliation makes for great story-telling. But while I don't embarass easily, I do, on occasion, find myself without words.

I'm self-employed and run my business from my home and I often receive packages relating to said business.  Also, because I'm rich. Last week was a banner week for deliveries - I was expecting the UPS and FedEx guys to be by with no less than eight separate shipments. Things were going swimmingly until early evening on Thursday. A package that I needed for the next day had yet to arrive so I had my kids glued to the front window, keeping watch for me. I was also expecting the delivery guy to stop by with our Chinese takeout.

The doorbell rang, and not seeing a delivery truck, I assumed it must be the food. I open the door to see a guy holding out a cardboard box, wearing a striped polo shirt and khaki shorts. Since when did FedEx go casual?
"I have a special delivery," he says, all kinds of gorgeous and making me wish Fynn didn't have his hand down my shirt.
"You're not my dinner." It's a statement, not a question. He smiles and holds up his other hand, with the bag of food.
"Oh, you are my dinner." Buhhhhhhhhhh... Instantly red, I dig through my wallet and pull out an extra $5, pushing it towards him as he starts to laugh and walk back to his car.

I shut the door, wishing my filter worked better on days like today. I sigh and mentally add Beijing to the list of places that I can no longer order from.

Two days later, I'm following up on some work leads and see an unfamiliar number in my phone with a 612 area code. I call the number, expecting it to be one of my leads in the metro area and imagine my horror when the CHINESE TAKEOUT GUY answers. I'd forgotten he'd called to get directions to my house. I start stammering out some incoherent explanation about how I thought he was someone from work and blerb flub glank plugf... He sounds confused and then suddenly, "You're the lady from Thursday, aren't you?"
"Ummm, yeah. Sorry. I'll just, uh, take your number out of my phone." I hung up before I could further convince him that I was a stalker who wanted to have him for dinner. Oh. My. Goodness.

1 comment:

  1. Oh Leah, your blog is solid gold! I love it. You really must start video taping yourself doing these, and then post videos to youtube. You'd be a huge international hit.