DoorDash and Dashed Hopes

If you read my work, you know that Handsome Hubby is the kindest, sweetest, most patient man — no, make that — the kindest, sweetest, most patient person on the planet. He practically qualifies for sainthood. And this coming from a Jewish girl is high praise indeed.

So, keep that in mind when I tell the following story of my almost-a-saint spouse and his terrible, rotten, no good day.

Yes, poor HH. His clients were driving him crazy. His children — OK, make that our children — were driving him crazy. And possibly, even I was also driving him (a little) crazy.

DoorDash Delivery, Please Do!

Still, as harried and harassed as he was, HH kindly paused to place a dinner delivery order for us. While waiting, he continued working, plodding on through the exhaustion and aggravation of the day. I happened to be in the hall outside his office when the phone rang and overheard this rapid-fire one side of the conversation that transpired:

“What do you mean, I entered the same address as the restaurant for the food delivery address? That’s ridiculous. Why would I do that? I’m not an idiot. I order food from DoorDash all the time. My address is in the system anyway.”

(Pause)

Unintelligible, but distinctly unpleasant sounding reply.

Then, again: “No, our address is not the same as the restaurant. Our address is ….”

Personal aside: Now, I, of course, know our address, and yet, I could barely make out what HH said. That’s how fast he shout-grunted it to the delivery guy.

(Pause)

“No, I do not want the food delivered to the same address as the restaurant. I want it delivered to my home.”

DoorDash Delivery Debacle

I thought of stepping into that room of boiling — make that exploding — testosterone. I thought of gently suggesting that Handsome Hubby “perhaps” repeat our address one more time s-l-o-w-l-y and “perhaps” even thanking the delivery man for his diligence in trying to straighten out the error and deliver my dinner — I mean, our dinner. But as a mature, many-years-married woman, I was both: (a) too smart and (b) too schooled in the ways of grouchy husbands to risk an intervention. So, I stayed the Hell out of harm’s way.

The call ended. Clearly there had not been a meeting of the minds or, more importantly, of the correct delivery address.

DoorDash Delivery Doubtful

So, you don’t need a crystal ball or a Ph.D. in food delivery services to know where this dinner delivery was heading — or not heading. There was no way, Jose, we were getting our food.

So, I tip-toed upstairs and quietly started cobbling together something to eat.

HH, clearly lacking insight or, at the very least, a crystal ball, somehow still had an abundance of optimism. He bounded up the stairs, fuming about the call, the “stupid computer error,” but still, convinced dinner would arrive “in 15-20 minutes.”

Always an Optimist

That’s what I love about the guy — his cockeyed optimism. He fights climate change and he believes in a deliveryman, even when he just trash-talked the fellow.

So, I quickly draped a dishtowel over the food fixings I had pulled out of the refrigerator, thus hiding my own lack of faith in food delivery salvation.

We sat down on the couch and talked about HH’s bad day. We talked for 37 minutes until HH’s phone buzzed. It was a photo from the delivery man — a photo showing that our food had been delivered as promised — delivered to the address on the order, the restaurant from which it had been bought!

I tried to stifle my laughter as I walked to the counter and started fixing dinner.

Meanwhile, HH went back downstairs to continue the fight against climate change — and also, the charge for the food that had not arrived at our house.

We ate at eight. The DoorDash dinner and delivery charges were dropped.

The fight against climate change continues. Handsome Hubby remains optimistic.