I was furiously finishing last-minute touches to a paperwork I was working on when the internal phone rang.
Ma’am, you have food delivery downstairs.
I thought to myself. I didn’t order anything. If someone is pranking me by sending me foodstuff and straddling me with a huge bill, they’d better be prepared for my hell-hath-no-fury.
Well unless I accidentally sleep-ordered something. Takeaway dominates my speed dial.
I didn’t order any food, I informed the receptionist. She read out my name and address on the delivery order.
Is that correct, ma’am?
Yes, I said. I’ll be right down.
I put pants on, grabbed my mobile phone, wallet and keys.
Two Starbucks paperbag sat at the corner of the reception counter. I opened them up and peered inside. There were 2 tall lattes, a blueberry cheese muffin and a chick-o-cheese pastry. A Roomservicedeliveries slip was stapled to one of bags. There, my name and address in capital letters. No sender details.
Maybe they are from your boyfriend, ma’am?
I laughed. If only it was that simple.
Maybe, I said to her with a smile. Then I thanked her, gathered the bags and made my way upstairs.
I was holding one of the lattes when Maverick picked me up for a meeting.
When did you get out to get coffee, he asked.
I didn’t, I told him. Someone sent it over.
Yeah, I agreed. Easier than explaining the real situation.
I never did find out who sent the food package.
Some days bring you rain. Some days Starbucks coffee. My life is funny that way.
This too is a true story.