Jayme Final run of the day, and I would make my goal… for the day. I slid into the curbside pickup parking spot in front of the store, which I had never been to before, which is rare but not unheard of. I walk up to the counter, holding my phone up so the workers can see my DoorDash app with the name of the order. They almost seemed alarmed pointing past me, saying; ‘its all ready,.. over there’ as if I was suppose to know that already. I spun around and looked at the table clearly marked “DoorDash Pickup”, and their stood a lone cup of Ice Coffee. No bag, no container, just a single cup of Ice Coffee, glistening sweat, top sealed with a gold sticker emblazoned with the stores logo. I look back and say my thank you’s to the wage slaves I hold more respect for than any most people, grabbed the cup of coffee and zoomed on my way back to the car.
I hit the ‘directions’ button almost reflexively. I had to go around the tip of a lake and up a hill to the Hospital, a 12 minute run. I started the car and off I went. I started thinking, and running the numbers; if I’m getting $7 for this run, for a single cup of coffee, and they had to pay, what $3.50 for the coffee and then DoorDash adds whatever they add … that’s like a $12 ice coffee! “Who the hell orders a $12 ice coffee??” I mean I get it, I could imagine a Nurse Practitioner, super busy, needing that caffeine fix, but $12?… and wasn’t there a cafe in the hospital?
I stole a glance at the phone floating in front of my face, suspended by the black plastic that encased the wireless charger hiding behind the phone.
9 minutes until I arrive.
“This is the most ridiculous order today, this week even, maybe of all my deliveries. The golden $12 Iced Coffee heading to the hospital.” Ok, so I was talking to myself as I sometimes did when the audio books, or Spotify was paused. “I should write a short story about this ridiculous order” I thought, “post it on the website”.. which you are now reading. I should have set up some sort of dictation software on my phone, I mean its probably already on there. I could just talk out loud as I drive and edit it later, like a modern day truck driver on a CB radio.
8 minutes until I arrive.
7 minutes until I arrive.
6 minutes until I arrive.
Half way there, and I steal a glance at the golden cup of ice coffee, nuzzled in the orange GrubHub branded insulated bag. The cup itself leaned slightly back, as if its head was being pushed back by the extreme speed at which I traveled, though I was stopped at a light. I adjusted the cup so as to stop any leakage, and the light turned green.
5 minutes until I arrive.
You know its not just a short story! Its like a microcosm of everything I want to say on the topic… Every topic, its all intertwined, interconnected. I gently accelerated up the hill heading towards the hospital, manually shifting the gears of the car as natural as if it were an automatic, and car growled as I dropped to a lower gear. I grinned as I sped up the hill, feeling the acceleration slightly push me back in my seat, imagining it would have been a similar feeling as if I was in a spaceship, without the downward pull of gravity.
3 minutes until I arrive.
2 minutes until I arrive.
Almost forgetting how stupid and wasteful this trip was, couriering a single cup of ice coffee from one end of town to another, the ice itself dissolving as I traveled, even though sitting in a insulated bag. The gas being consumed, now at a premium price due to reasons beyond my control; wars, corporate greed. All for this $12 golden cup of ice coffee, but what did I care, I was still getting paid, slightly, enough to make my goal for the day, so I can head home knowing I had accomplished what I had planned to do. To survive, strive, and to live another day.
1 minute until I arrive.
I make the final turn, cruise through the parking lot and again slide into the space by the curb in front of the entrance. I push down on the breaks, making them squeel slightly, pull back on the parking break, turn the key back, which automatically unlocks my door, all one one swift motion as I had done countless of times. With the air of a professional I slid the floppy top of the insulated back back and grab the dripping wet cup of ice coffee, it had spilled a little, but not much. I put it down in the cars cup holder so I could continue my ritual of delivery and went to grab my mask. My mask! Where the hell is it? I looked in the passanger seat where I usually stow the black k95 mask, but it was nowhere to be seen. A slight sense of panic hit my bloodstream. I needed a mask, this was a hospital with a sign on every door “Mask Required”, it would be slightly more than faux pax to run in without one. I remembered I had tossed the mask DoorDash had sent me into the bottom of the GrubHub bag the ice coffee recently vacated. I reached into the bag pulling out the red mask still wrapped in the plastic it came in, dripping ice coffee, shit! I guess it leaked a bit more than I thought. Luckily the plastic kept the mask from absorbing any of the brown liquid, and the mask remained unstained. I slipped the mask on, to my own chagrin, akin to branding myself a DoorDash delivery person. You see one of the things I love about this job is that I am actually an independent contractor, which meant no one could force me to wear a uniform. No need to brand myself or even my car with corporate logos, even if they pay the bills. I still remained independent, myself, my own identity, no matter what people saw as I handed them their food… but today the mask was more important.
I grabbed the still dripping (probably 50% sweat, 50% coffee) cup and exited the vehicle. I left the cup with some hospital employees, following the instructions given, never seeing the intended customer who paid the exorbitant price for a cup of ice coffee that started a chain of events that lead me to where I was.
Arrived. Delivered. Confirm. Confirm.
