He Almost Lost His Delivery.

 

I heard this story from a courier friend of mine, and I have not stopped thinking about it since.

He was in an elevator. Standard end of a standard delivery, the kind of ride that lasts thirty seconds and usually involves nothing more than staring at the floor numbers and waiting. Another man got in on a lower floor. A neighbor from somewhere in the building, relaxed, unhurried, making conversation the way some people do in small spaces.

The neighbor looked at the bag and asked if he was delivering food.

My friend said he was delivering whatever had been ordered.

Simple enough answer. The elevator continued upward. And then the neighbor asked if he could take a look inside the bag.

Just in case, he said. In case there was something he might want.

My friend stopped. Looked at him. Explained, with the patience of someone who could not quite believe the conversation was happening, that this was someone else's order. That a specific person in this building had opened an app and chosen specific things and paid for those specific things and was currently waiting for them to arrive.

The neighbor considered this information briefly.

Then he said: well, I'll pay for it.

As if the only obstacle between him and someone else's dinner was a matter of reimbursement. As if the whole system of ordering food, the choosing and the waiting and the anticipation, was merely a formality that could be bypassed if you happened to be in the right elevator at the right time with cash on hand.

My friend rode the rest of the way up in silence, delivered the order to the correct door, and came back down.

The neighbor, to his credit, did not follow him.