Knock-Knock, Who’s There?

By Jeff Baker

I’d been banging on the delivery door for about three minutes when I finally got a response from inside. It was like that old comedy bit.

“Who is it?” the voice said.

“Delivery!” I said.

“Read the sign. No deliveries between Eleven-Thirty and One-Thirty.”

“It also says ‘Taco Grande’ and they moved.” I said. “Look, your boss called us up and wanted this stuff immediately. Open up, it’s hot out here.”

“I can’t open this door before one. Besides, we’re in our lunch rush.” the voice said.

“I drove around through the front parking lot,” I said. “You don’t look busy, and you need…”

“Look, you don’t bring anything in here without my approval,” the voice said. “I don’t care who said what or how hot it is. You’re not getting in here right now.”

“Your boss wanted this stuff as fast as we could get it here,” I said. “I have the cooler in the van and I…”

“I don’t care what anybody said,” he said opening the door a crack. “You get out of here and come back after…”

He was a tall, lean man with brown hair and one of those corporate-looking button-down shirts restaurant managers wear with the company logo on his tie.

He stared for a moment.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, pointing to my two-wheeler and the brown cardboard tub oozing a purple glop all over the pavement.

“That,” I said, “is the tub of raspberry ice cream your boss called up for and wanted in a hurry. We had instructions to bring it out as fast as we could and put it in your freezer. Your boss has big plans for it. And,’ I said pulling the wheeler out from under it, “he already paid so you don’t have to sign for it.”

I turned and went back to my delivery truck.

The joke was on me. They made that idiot who wouldn’t open the door a Supervisor.

—end—

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Actually, everything in this story really did happen to me at various times in my career as a deliveryman (about 25 years!) I thought about inserting dragons, zombies or a flying saucer but truth is stranger than fiction! ——jeff