We get what seems like a never-ending supply of packages delivered to our house. I’m not certain a week goes by without FedEx making a visit. There is Tammi’s medicine, the dog’s food, packages from Grandma, and anything my wife buys on line.
Yesterday, the FedEx guy drops off a box of dog food and, per standard operating procedure, rings the doorbell and sprints back to the truck. OK, maybe sprint is a bit of an exaggeration.
It still annoys me.
Then, just a few moments later, the doorbell rings again.
I look up to see the FedEx guy dropping a second box, and, once again, sprinting back to his truck.
Why does he even ring the doorbell in the first place?
Seriously, they drop off a package, ring the doorbell, and walk away. This just pisses me off for a number of reasons. Not the least of which, is its just rude! [Editor’s note: I’m assuming you are standing on your lawn shaking your fist?]
Either just drop off the package and walk away, or ring the doorbell and give me a moment to answer the door. Don’t go sprinting back to your truck. The purpose of the doorbell is to let me know you would like to speak to me. If you don’t want to actually speak with me, then don’t ring the doorbell.
This really doesn't even have anything to do about nap time. FedEx mostly visits us after nap time, although they have on occasion interrupted our slumber.
Truthfully, I don’t want anyone using the doorbell…ever.
It seems, I have a never ending stream of individuals who try to sell me crap by going door to door. I don’t know why it annoys me so much, but had I wanted to speak with you, than I would have used this new invention called the phone and called you. A week ago someone was driving a semi by, and was walking down the street, trying to sell stolen furniture. They didn't say it was stolen, but it didn't matter. If I wanted furniture, I would have gone to a furniture store, vs. the alternative of waiting for someone to randomly stop by my house during the middle of the afternoon.
Moving on...Between the boy’s Grandmother and GG (Great Grandmother) they receive a care package from the frozen north (WI) once every couple of months. So when packages do arrive, they lose their minds a little bit.
“Dad! There is a package here! Do you think it’s for me and Jackson?”
“Sorry Glenn, it looks like it is for your mom.”
“Can we open it?”
“No. It’s is a crime to open another person’s mail. We will have to wait until your mother comes home.”
“UHHHH!” uncontrollable crying as he falls to the floor. “I never ever get a package.”
“Glenn….you literally got a package from your GG yesterday!”
The next day he will revisit the situation again. “Dad do you remember yesterday when mom got a package? I really want to get a package, because I never get one…”
There is a natural progression in life, and I am in a transition phase. First, I was a smart ass teenager, then I was in my twenty’s, and I was cool and had friends. Now, I’m in my thirty’s and I get annoyed by strangers just doing their jobs. Soon I will be a crusty grouchy old man yelling at kids for walking in my lawn.
For now, I don’t mind if they run across the lawn, just don’t ring the doorbell.
[Editor’s note: See]