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The Tale of the UPS Man, My Bathrobe & The Heart Attack

September 27, 2011

Why does everyday end with — “this would make a GREAT blog”?

So I am sitting in “the warehouse” getting some paperwork done when there is a knock on the door.  I go answer and it is our UPS man.

“Are you going to ship packages EVERY day?” he asks, just slightly annoyed

I’m not sure why he is asking this, and feel like it must be a trick question.  I realize our usual pick up time is around lunch and the line at Panera does get very long, very quick, so I answer very cautiously..

“Well, we usually ship a few days of the week.  Some days lots, some days a little and some days none.” I reply

He then shoots this dagger to my heart, “Because you know it costs you $6 each time I show up here.”


“So every time you come pick up a package you charge me $6 PLUS the shipping cost,” I ask clearly confused about the surcharge

“Yes” he replies

“Are you the superstar “A Level” UPS man?  Can I request a cheaper “D level” one?” I sarcastically respond

He is not amused and I believe our surcharge just went up to $8.

I call SFG who immediately calls UPS for an explanation on this.

SFG calls me back.

“Good news,” she says, “Don’t schedule any pick ups.  If they come anyway to deliver and see a package we won’t get charged the surcharge.”

“Whew,” I say.  “That’s great.  So what happens if they don’t deliver anything and we have something to ship.”

The dead silence on the other end should have been the tip-off that once again I would have ample material for a blog.

“Well, you may just have to chase down the truck, ” she replies in a near whisper

So our new shipping strategy?  Sales & Marketing chasing the Big Brown — ahh yes, this is how all great businesses start.

Enter this am.

I’m making the kids lunches in my robe and furry slippers and see the UPS truck tear thru the neighborhood.  Wait?  This is too early, he doesn’t come to around lunch.

I grab the packages and run out the door like a kid chasing an ice cream truck.

My kids of course just think this is another episode of my mid-life crisis.  First the dots, then the tantrum on the floor, now I just run out the door and chase random trucks like a dog.

And in true Hollywood fashion, it begins to rain.  No correction, it starts POURING rain — like God was waiting for me to exit my front door because he knew this would make the blog even better.

I’m in full-out sprint as I pass the middle schoolers waiting for their bus and I swear at least one had their video phone on.

I finally catch the truck, and hand him the packages.

“Good morning, ” he says all cheery, cozy and warm in his heated truck

“Yeah …gasp.  Great…gasp…freakin….gasp… morn..” I say looking like a drowned rat

“See you tomorrow,” he says with a big ol’ grin

I don’t reply — I’m laying on the soaking grass trying to catch my breath and praying that the pain I feel is not due to a heart attack, but due to the fact that I’m most likely on You Tube.


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