The Delivery Driver Who Changed My Perspective
I had already lied to my delivery driver once, but when I ran outside barefoot in my pajamas during a thunderstorm, I knew I would have some explaining to do.
“Wait!” I shouted.
The driver turned around, holding my Chinese food in one hand and his insulated delivery bag in the other. Rain poured down around us as he looked at me, then at my house, clearly confused.
“You’re the customer?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“But you said you weren’t home.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He glanced at my bare feet and said, “You’re going to step on something.”
That was his first concern—not that I had lied to him, but that I might hurt myself. I started laughing, partly from embarrassment and partly because I realized how ridiculous the situation had become.
Earlier that evening, I had been having one of those terrible days when every little thing seemed to go wrong. I had woken up with a breakout on my chin, dealt with an exhausting meeting at work, and learned that a problem under my kitchen sink might cost several hundred dollars to repair. By the time I got home, I had no energy left to deal with anyone.
