Unexpected

Unexpected things happen. Mostly, I think, they're unexpected because they're so rare, not because they're so difficult to achieve or because they never happen. Just seldom to you. Or not when you think.

Take last Friday. I was making a pharmacy delivery. The drop is a place I'd been to before. The timing, early evening, is typical of when this company sends its stuff out, so the residents will be home.

Ring. Ring. Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock. Ring. This has taken about three minutes. We're patient on these because often the recipient is sick or disabled and has problems getting to the door quickly. Suddenly the woman throws the door open and starts right in on me, telling me I shouldn't be pounding on her door so late at night (nearly 7 PM). While I can't bring the stuff sooner than it's called in nor faster than traffic will allow, and am just as happy to be done for the night at an earlier hour, I apologize to her.

Then she asks if the delivery is from pharmacy X, and almost before I can say yes, she rants, "I know what that is. It's the patches. Well, you can tell them that I'm not taking them."

Oh. Kay.

I inquire politely if she'll sign the form with the word "refused" and her name so the company will know I tried to deliver them so I can get paid. She grudgingly complies, shuts the door in my face, and I return to the car to contact dispatch. Somebody is still there, and he contacts the pharmacy, which closes in 5 minutes. He relays that they will try to talk to their customer, and I'm to stand by. Fine by me, as long as he marks the run so I get loadtime.

Dispatch idly wondered what the stuff that got refused was. I knew it was patches, but not for what. Feeling a bit put out, I guessed aloud that whatever it was, it was psychoactive, and she was off her meds. We both got a bit of a pick-me-up from that.

Well, fine for a while anyway. It is a Friday and I'd like to get home after a long week. This drop is in Forest Lake, pretty close to home for me, relatively speaking. But the wait drags on. I'm thinking good luck to the pharmacy folks, with her attitude. Love to be the fly on the wall listening to that conversation.

Eventually they decide they want the stuff back. Tonight. By now it's 7:30 and I'm ready to go home for the week. Besides, the sender is closed. Oh, no problem, just take to to ______ Hospital pharmacy. Wonderful! I don't do hospitals. Too much walking.

Well, there's a driver out in Luck, Wisconsin (10 miles past communication range). They'll contact him and have him meet me at home and get the stuff off me. Well, when they can get through. And when he can find my place - must be a new driver. Eventually, it all worked.

* * * * * *

I got the most unexpected call the Tuesday night. It was American Airlines out in Los Angeles, and my first reaction was to wonder once again why it is the people with the thickest accents who get the phone jobs? Though her name was mangled, I recognized that they were calling for my granddaughter's grandmother, aka me. (French names aren't all that difficult. If it ends in -eau, just say ooo. Not oh. Not yow or yaw.) Anyway, I knew what it was going to be about (read here and here). Either they found the suitcase or there were questions about the claim. After all, if they were going to pay, they could just send a check, right?

Well, they found the suitcase. This was the one gone missing July 6, and found Sept. 28. Where did we want it delivered to? It's amazing how long a call like that can take, even without questions like where was it? and how stupid/lazy do you have to be to take this long to find it? But I didn't ask those questions. I just settled for success. The suitcase was returned to its owner Thursday night, with a small detour via my place, and a road trip until I finished work.

* * * * * *

Sometimes what's unexpected is the punch line. It's what makes you laugh. My favorite recently heard joke is the following. I forget who told me, but I've been spreading it around, embellishing it a bit from how I heard it.

Three little old ladies are sitting in chairs at the nursing home, chatting. A very dapper older gentleman passes them when one of the ladies pipes up, "I bet we know how to tell how old you are."

This stops the gentleman in his tracks. The reason he's so well dressed is that he believes he looks much younger than his actual age, and the sartorial splendor merely increases that perceived difference. "Really? And just how do you propose to do that?"

The little old lady who first spoke tells him, "If you take off all your clothes, then turn around slowly three times, we can tell how old you are."

He doesn't believe for a minute that they can do as they say. Intrigued, he decides to put them to the test. He removes his clothing, carefully folding each piece, then turns around the required three times. After putting his clothes back on neatly, he asks, "Well? Just how old do you think I am?"

Almost in unison, the three ladies answer, "84."

"Wow! That's absolutely amazing! Tell me, just what was it that gave it away?"

The first little old lady snorts, "That's easy! Yesterday we went to your birthday party!"