A Long Day

Yesterday I was on call, which means if anyone needs a Saturday delivery, or has a mattress emergency, I'm the one to talk to. Being on call can be really nice, if you don't actually get a call. I got called.

I started out my day driving up to Carmichael and then up to Yuba City. Yuba City is a little, tiny city about 175 miles north east of San Francisco. By the time I got up there, it was just before lunch, so I stopped at "The Mall" to get something to eat. There was actually a sign in front with big letters that said: "The Mall."

Everything is cheaper there. I noticed the same Sbarro lunch I would have gotten at the mall in San Francisco cost be $3 less. So the upside of living in Yuba City is the cost of living, but the down side is that you are living in Yuba City.

When I was done setting up the Yuba city mattress, they guy thanked me and let me know that he wasn't expecting me until Monday. A fine example of information to give me when I called to set up an appointment.

My second to last Delivery of the day was to a 90 year old woman in Mill Valley. She was friendly and I think a little lonely, eager to tell me things that weren't really my business. For instance, she let me know her hobbling around with a walker was the result of an evening of too much wine and falling over. I did notice several empty boxes of Charles Shaw on the deck.

She also showed me a birthday card her kids made for her inviting people to her 90th birthday. It had a picture of her on the front, taken some 60 years earlier. It's amazing how people can change over so many years. I couldn't even see any resemblance.

As I was leaving, she offered me a cookie. Generally I'm not one to take food from strangers, especially after handling sheets that smell faintly of pee. (To be fair, I noticed some cat paraphernalia. So the pee smell may have been animal related.)

"You know, I'm just about to go home and have dinner. But thank you."
"You're going to have a cookie whether you like it or not."
"Well, ok then."

When I finally made it out the door, I told her,

"Have a good evening."
"I had a friend who, whenever someone would tell him to have a good evening, he would say, 'I've got other plans.'"
"Well, I hope you don't have other plans."

12 hours of work on a Saturday is too much, even when you factor in the cookie.