Wednesday, 29 May 2013

D is for Delivery




It might not look like much to some of you, but some of us all of us nail geeks love a parcel that looks exactly like the above (even more so if it contains glitter).  

Now allow me introduce you to Dave the Interlink parcel delivery man that delivers on behalf of Sweet Squared, who in turn supplies me with Shellac, Vinylux, Brisa Lite and all that goes with it.  I'm afraid I don't have a picture of the lovely Dave but in all fairness I'm one step away from a restraining order so it's probably best I don't post a picture of him on the world wide web... not that I have one... honest! But it beggars the question how exactly do I know the name of my delivery man?

Is it because he comes to my house so often we are now on first name terms? Or is it because Dave has happened to see me in my white leopard print onesie, hair like a birds nest one too many times so we feel there is no need to stand on ceremony anymore? Or could it be that Dave and I have become such good friends owing to me some weeks seeing him more than my own mother, that our professional relationship has some what lapsed?  

I did catch Dave guffawing at my good self in my onesie the first (yes I said first) time he saw me in it and whilst I tried to keep as little eye contact with him as possible, I'm not deaf.  But back to the question. 

No it's none of the above because in fact when Interlink send me a delivery email with my one hour time slot, normally perfectly timed with the school run (thanks Dave) they tell me Dave will be delivering it. Such a personal touch, if not a lie... well if it's not a lie they have a lot of Dave's working in one depot! I do believe from chatting to other nail geeks that there is a Lee, a Sam and a Paul too.  Still never the less, Dave and I have become firm(ish) friends, even if he's too scared to admit it.

But whether it's nail parapherna(i)lia, a new frock or a pair of shoes, I'm sure every woman can relate to the excitement of a parcel arriving.  My husband just doesn't get it.  In fact I get so excited, as I know so many others do, that when the parcel delivery guy arrives, we all do that little squeal of excitement and clapping of hands like a seal before we (almost) compose ourselves before opening the door.  I'll admit, I have seen Dave recoil at my exuberance at his... uhum I mean... the parcels arrival.  

Waiting is the worst bit though right?  Even if we know the time slot and some times they are vast (unless Dave is your man) we still jump up and peer out the net curtains or venetian blinds, depending upon what decade we're in, every time we so much as hear a diesel van engine come to a halt.  For me it's a little bit harder.  I live in the basement, or the last floor above hell as my family calls it, so whilst I have windows, several in fact, they face an 8 foot high wall that leads to ground level.  So I'm not so much a curtain twitcher or blind botherer, I'm more of a meerkat.  Every time I hear that engine, I'm out my french doors, nose in the air, ears pricked to see if 'Dave' is about to descend to the crypt. The crypt is the other name we use for our lower ground flat, owing to the fact we live in the basement of a very old chapel built in the 1800's.  

Still I know 'Dave' just loves to hear me when I run through the communal hallway in nothing but a onesie, leaving my dignity and pride at our apartment door, to burst fourth through the communal doorway and sign for my parcel, because every time I close that door and star jump with excitement, I'm sure I hear him mutter "thank god that's over because I'm just not paid enough for this". 


1 comment:

  1. It looks nicely packaged, which is a prerequisite since those are nail bottles after all, and rather fragile. I'm glad that you seem to be in good terms with the delivery guys and haven't had a missing or damaged item so far.

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