The Delivery Driver Brawl

Amazon vs UPS

Our humidifier is out of distilled water. I have to order more. So I sit in our kitchen nook and scroll that guy Jeff’s website, Amazon, when I hear the rumble of a delivery truck. It’s the third I’ve seen just this morning, and something hits me.

I say to Brittany, I’d rather go pick it up. The water. They’re so busy these days because of the holidays.

She looks at me incredulously.

You don’t want to bother the delivery drivers with…deliveries?

Not wanting to ‘bother’ amazon is like a POW not wanting to ask his captor for water.

Hey — sorry to be annoying, but if you aren’t too busy, could you get me some water? I’d get it myself but I’m tied to this beam — and again, only if you aren’t too busy, I’m just so thirsty from being tortured for the last six months.

Get you water?

It’s just upstairs, right?

My legs are exhausted from kicking you in the stomach.

Oh my God. No, totally. I’m so sorry for asking.

I mean, God forbid I inconvenience the global conglomerate known as Amazon.

So with this in mind, I order the distilled water and wait. Nervously. All these questions running through my head. How is the driver’s body holding up? Do her knees hurt? Her back? Will my lazy decision to order heavy gallons of water instead of going and get it myself piss her off so much that she finally snaps and walks out on her family? Bashes her shitty son’s xbox against the wall into tiny little pieces?

I stare out the window, hoping for the best, as another delivery driver speeds through our neighborhood, nearly taking out a mailbox. They screech to a halt. I watch this delivery man carry a box to the neighbor’s. He’s listening to music. Pumped up. I try to guess what high school sport he played as I watch this fragile box soar over the fence, and thwack against the stone ground.

Whatever it is, it definitely breaks. But I think that’s better than just leaving it out front. Package theft is so commonplace during the holidays. And I think I’d rather receive something broken than to feel violated by some jerk thief. No better way to bring the holiday cheer than stealing the cooking apron from Etsy that my mother sent me!

When I’m on my daily walk and I see a package outside a house, two thoughts cross my mind: One, I should be a good samaritan and ring their bell, let them know. The second is that I should stop standing in front of this house, staring at the package thinking about being a good samaritan. Because it’s been a full two minutes now and suddenly I’ve become the suspect. And now that I feel suspicious, I glance around, behind me and into living room windows, to see if anyone is calling the cops on me. Not sure what I’d do if I met anyone’s eyes. Probably smile at them and wave enthusiastically, which I’m sure would put an end to the misunderstanding.

So I walk on.

And I’m about to cross the street to get home when I hear tires screech and a horn blast.

Then, yelling.

As a brown uniformed dude gets out of his UPS truck and walks up to a freelance holiday Amazon driver. Their cars had nearly collided.

And the way the UPS man has his fists clenched, I suddenly realize I’m amidst an in-person battle between two massive private companies.

The UPS driver, a veteran of the road, walks up to the proud freelance driver, and shoves him. Hard. The freelance driver is shocked when he hits the pavement. Looking up at the big, brown uniform towering over him.

Welcome to the road, bitch. The UPS man says.

And walks back to his truck, pulls out a box marked fragile, and slings it fifty-six meters from street to fence. It crashes on the other side, shattering its contents.

Baseball? I ask.

Nah, my G. He says, dusting off his hands. Going through a divorce.