Tumbling through the Christmas peak
as the days keep slip slidin’ away
It’s easy to joke about the training required to do certain jobs.
Look at me: I’m delivering packages during the Christmas rush.
Can you imagine what my training manual looked like?
The driver upon arriving at the address will hand you a package. Walk up towards the house. Throw it in the bushes. Take a picture of their dog. Walk away.
In reality, there’s a bit more to it.
They talked a lot about carrying up to seventy five pounds over uneven surfaces.
Words were spoke about three points of contact and tripping hazards.
They even spoke about procedures to adhere to when there is snow on the ground.
Company policy?
Customer service.
Another company policy?
If you can’t see what you’re walking on, don’t do it.
What’s more startling?
Policy 1 overrides policy 2.
Unknown dog? Emergency conditions. Delay delivery. Driveway covered with snow. Emergency conditions. Delay delivery.
Ricky was going through the list of ways we get to keep peoples packages on our truck instead of handing it over to them.
It’s how we win. For example, you know that jackass on White Rock Road? That one who shouted at us about not putting marks on his fresh driveway? We’re going there today.
His driveway was steep, paved and snow covered.
Chuck it in the trash ban and take a picture with the DooDad.
Ricky was instructing as the tall man in the expensive home watched us hawkishly.
It says, back door, top of the stairs? I was concerned about that whole customer service thing. Ricky was not.
Fuck that guy. If he wants anything from us he’s gotta get his soft hands out here and shovel.
Snow fell all around us. The man inside looked warm and cozy.
It’s a shame he’s an arsehole Ricky, he looks so comfortable.
Not for long if he wants his shit! Dumb motherfucker’s going have to walk all the way down here. It’s his own fault. I’ve been here many times. Not once has he been polite. Not once has he done anything else but criticize. He hasn’t even cleared his sidewalk. I’m going to have to tell George about this tool.
George is Ricky’s personal injury lawyer.
It seems that many deliver drivers are on a first name basis with their personal injury lawyers.
And a wealthy insistent arsehole who lives on a hill with a slippery, unshoveled driveway would be easy pickings for George.
I didn’t get it though. There wasn’t much snow down. I had a hard time in good conscience not delivering this man’s package. At the next stop I instated.
Dude, There’s hardly any snow. Let’s just get this off the truck. I’ll be fine.
I was fine until I fell.
Well.
The first fall was fine.
The next four were fine too.
But the fifth fall?
The fifth fall fucked me up.
I threw my shoulder and neck out somehow.
The next day, I was back at it.
And then?
I fucking fell again.
If you don’t know what’s below, don’t go Ricky reminded me.
At the next questionable walking surface, I threw the package. It landed in a holly bush.
I had fallen enough.
Customer service could suck my balls.
There, now you get it. Ricky was beaming with pride.
So dear reader, if you’re looking for Christmas deliveries in a snow storm?
Check your rosebush and shovel your fucking walkway.