Bwahahaha update:
They delivered 90lbs, all right: in the form of two 45lb dumbells.
Lots of customer service rigmarole and it’s one of those “we will refund you, keep the item” deals. So now I have a pair of 45lb dumbells.
Spoilers: I already have a pair of 45lb dumbells.
Fuck.
45 pound dumbells? Don't you mean my sister's kids?!
My wife orders our cat food through Amazon. For the type we need, it's the least expensive and easiest option. But we get like.. a month's worth of food at a time. For five cats. And we pretty much only feed them wet food. So it's something like 250 cans per order. And they almost always deliver it in one heavy box.
My wife always feels bad for the delivery guy that has to lug the thing from the van to our door. I do not feel bad. Tell the wimpy little shit to eat a protein bar and lift a weight once in a while if he can't handle a box of fucking canned food. The funny part is when I'm home and open the door for the delivery because the guy is barely able to hold onto this box and I go to take it from him and he's all "whooa man, it's really heavy, are you sure?" and I just take it in one arm and I'm like 'yeah, it's fine.' I'm not even that strong. You're just embarrassingly weak.
And to be clear, I'd never toss something heavy at a random dude in public and be like 'haha, you're so weak you can't lift this.' This is specifically about taking a job and not even attempting to be capable of performing it safely.
The only time I really feel bad is when I order, like, a super heavy shelf or something, or if I'll place a grocery delivery and order heavy cat litter or cat food, since I live on the 3rd floor of my building and there's no elevator. One could argue that, yeah, they should take that into consideration when applying for the job, but I know firsthand that's not always something you think of. Me, for instance, with my wonky asthma, I can do just about any kind of work and not get bothered, but the moment I have to lift anything heavy past my chest, and especially up stairs, I'm down for the count. And since all my Mom's physical health issues, knowing that she had to take lots of odd jobs over the years that she really shouldn't have, just to be able to make ends meet, I try to have sympathy for the poor delivery folks. In a perfect world, folks with disabilities or limitations wouldn't have to take jobs they're not necessarily cut out for, but this ain't a perfect world.
I also don't mean to be
that guy and suck the fun out of the room; some of them are just wusses. Back home in Kansas, where it gets hotter than hell in the summer and cold as ice in the winter, my family's postal worker is this little old lady who's gotta be in her 70's at least. She's got
the most fit calves and ankles I've ever seen- puts even Spongebob's to shame. She can hustle up those streets, hauling those big bags and boxes like it's nothing, regardless of weather. A total legend. Here in NY, however, we have a much much younger guy who just absolutely refuses to walk up even a single flight of stairs to drop our mail off. The only time he'll do it is if there's something to be delivered to one of the girls in the business one flight down that he clearly has a crush on.
Delivery people are such an interesting breed.
