Yesterday I ordered a new laptop from Best Buy. It was a bargain. Two hundred dollars off, final cost about $250 before tax, with free next-day delivery.
If you’re technically curious: Pentium i3, 8 memory, 128 solid state drive of some sort. Nothing much, but more than adequate for an upcoming virtual class, where the “practicum” portion specifically requires a Windows or Mac laptop. My Linux laptop isn’t welcome (I asked).
This morning, a text arrived from Best Buy. My order had shipped from a local Best Buy using the “Roadie” gig delivery service. The driver’s name was Anthony, and he was driving “a small blue SUV”.
It was hard to get a feel for Anthony from his thumbnail photo. I got tentative vibes of hidden gang tattoos and recent hard prison time. It didn’t help that his eyes were squeezed shut and he wasn’t quite looking at the camera.
Should I be worried?
Well, I told myself, Anthony was doing honest work on this hot and sunny Saturday. That said something. If he was looking for people to rob, a broad daylight strategy wasn’t a smart strategy. Or is that what landed him in jail in the first place?
No signature was required. I could have hunkered down safely inside, in my own little mental prison of paranoid fears.
Or I could go outside and greet him.
Option B was practically mandatory.
Why? Our driveway had just been seal-coated earlier in the morning. Suppose he was in a hurry? Suppose he obliviously overlooked the orange ribbon, ruined both his shoes and the driveway, and then got black footprints on our porch – all without noticing? I’d open the door, take the laptop, try to suppress my horror, and politely point out what had happened. And suppose he has anger issues? Suppose he went into a blind rage and beat me up? Both of our days would be ruined. I’d end up in the hospital. He’d be back in jail.
So I waited on the porch. When the small blue SUV pulled up, I trotted to the curb. (I avoided the driveway by carefully stepping through the flower bed, then across the grass.)
The moment had arrived. I was about to get my new laptop…and meet Anthony.
Out of the small, blue SUV (actually small and bright blue) stepped a cherubic, soft-spoken, neatly dressed twenty-year old. He greeted me with a sweet smile and broken English. I tipped him $5, and we parted with a feeling of good will among men.
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