After Peanut Butter and Jelly Day yesterday, today is International Pillow Fight Day. Can it possibly get better than this?
Mornin' y'all!
Here is the third call, made from the same pay phone from which I made the second and fourth calls. This was when pay phones still existed, and still a number of years before I had a cell phone:
Me: "I tried to follow your directions, but when I found the house with the green tin roof, magnolia tree in the front yard and big front porch, it wasn't your house. How far down Washington Rd do I go before I get to your house?"
Express Mail recipient: "When ya gits to the old Joyner store, ya turn a little west. Then jest keep on gittin' and don't stop fer nothin'."
I tried to tell him that I didn't have a compass and didn't know west from east on this drizzly totally overcast day. He just couldn't grasp that there are people like me lacking a good sense of direction. He also forgot to tell me that the old Joyner store had been razed 20 years prior and was now just an overgrown field. I'd been in town only for a year and half, and it wasn't even THIS town.
Oh, and I also wasn't too up on Southern Tree identification at the time.
Oh, and yeah, I still was working on comprehending heavy local country dialect.
So, miles later I find another house that looks like it MIGHT be the right one. I go knock on the door. A lady comes to the door and says, "no, that guy doesn't live here but I think I might know his nephew." I said, "thanks. Have a great day."
I retreated 6 or 7 miles back to the pay phone and called the guy yet again.
Me: "I've really tried and still can't find you. I'm at the pay phone in the parking lot of the Chevy dealer on the edge of town. Can you get here and pick up the package? I'll wait for you."
Express Mail recipient: "Sure. All ya had to do is ask."
The next day, of course, one of my supervisors wanted to know why it took me five hours to deliver 6 packages, and why I'd put over 70 miles on the truck.
Long time no see in these parts, Sgt Pepper. Mornin'!Hi.
Mornin' y'all!
True story from 1989. I was delivering Express Mail on a Sunday to an address out of town in the days before 911 addressing, and this package had only a rural route number and box number on it. In other words there was no way for me to have a clue where the house was located. Fortunately the recipient's phone number had been included on the label, so I called and spoke to the guy who was awaiting the package.
Here is the third call, made from the same pay phone from which I made the second and fourth calls. This was when pay phones still existed, and still a number of years before I had a cell phone:
Me: "I tried to follow your directions, but when I found the house with the green tin roof, magnolia tree in the front yard and big front porch, it wasn't your house. How far down Washington Rd do I go before I get to your house?"
Express Mail recipient: "When ya gits to the old Joyner store, ya turn a little west. Then jest keep on gittin' and don't stop fer nothin'."
I tried to tell him that I didn't have a compass and didn't know west from east on this drizzly totally overcast day. He just couldn't grasp that there are people like me lacking a good sense of direction. He also forgot to tell me that the old Joyner store had been razed 20 years prior and was now just an overgrown field. I'd been in town only for a year and half, and it wasn't even THIS town.
Oh, and I also wasn't too up on Southern Tree identification at the time.
Oh, and yeah, I still was working on comprehending heavy local country dialect.
So, miles later I find another house that looks like it MIGHT be the right one. I go knock on the door. A lady comes to the door and says, "no, that guy doesn't live here but I think I might know his nephew." I said, "thanks. Have a great day."
I retreated 6 or 7 miles back to the pay phone and called the guy yet again.
Me: "I've really tried and still can't find you. I'm at the pay phone in the parking lot of the Chevy dealer on the edge of town. Can you get here and pick up the package? I'll wait for you."
Express Mail recipient: "Sure. All ya had to do is ask."
The next day, of course, one of my supervisors wanted to know why it took me five hours to deliver 6 packages, and why I'd put over 70 miles on the truck.
