READ THE L.A.R.G.E. PRINT! 👀
Sometimes I deliver the local orders myself.
Why?
Because it gives me a chance to connect with customers. I get to see who’s actually eating my food which, when you’re growing a small business, is priceless.
You can’t predict or manufacture that kind of connection.
It’s just old-school… people connecting with people.
Well… this particular delivery was, shall we say… different. 😂
FIRST…
I’m gently cruising through the pastured fields, admiring the stunning countryside of the Wolds, when my SatNav tells me the property is on my right.
Except… it should be on the left.
It’s an even-numbered address.
So I do a little youey, turn the car around and pull up outside the property.
But something doesn’t feel right.
My instincts say:
“Re-enter the postcode.”
Oh.My.Days. OH MY DAYS!!! 😳
WRONG POSTCODE.
I’m about 20 minutes away.
So off I go again, another scenic route through the Wolds.
Normally I’d be admiring the cows, sheep and deer.
Not today!
Today, I’m on a MISSION. 😂
I still have plenty of time before the delivery window closes, but that’s not the point.
I need to find this house!
Eventually, I find the right road.
But…
WHERE IS THE HOUSE?!
Ultra weird....
Apparently, when land gets bought, houses are built, and additional plots are sold later, the numbering system can become completely bonkers.
So the houses don’t necessarily run consecutively.
Brilliant!!!
I call the customer.
STRAIGHT TO VOICEMAIL.
Arrrrgh! 😩
Eventually, I find what I think is the house.
But now my paranoia kicks in.
I’m standing there thinking:
“Am I about to deliver four frozen Caribbean meals to a complete stranger?”
I peer at the door.
Double-check the street number.
Check it again.
Okay.
I’m confident.
Music is BLEARING from inside, so hopefully they can hear me knocking.
The door knocker is feeble. It makes this tiny, pathetic little sound.
knock… knock…
“Keep the faith,” comes to mind.
Then…
I hear a dog bark.
Human noises.
The door opens.
YES!!!
I’ve got the right house! 🙌🏾😂
Job done.
I head home.
Then…
THE PHONE RINGS.
Never a good sign straight after a delivery. 😳
It’s the customer.
“I didn’t know the food was frozen.”
Oh. 😱
Here we go…
He tells me he can’t eat it because he doesn’t have a microwave.
Then the food isn’t fresh.
Then he tells me he feels physically unable to eat it.
Then…
HE’S GOING TO THROW IT AWAY.
Four meals.
My four meals.
The meals I’ve cooked, seasoned, prepared, packaged and frozen specifically to preserve the flavour and quality.
At this point, I’m thinking:
“Why couldn’t you just be like all the other customers?!” 😂
I explain that the payment has already gone through and, unfortunately, I can’t simply revoke the transaction.
I also explain that the website makes it very clear.
FROZEN.
FRESHLY COOKED.
FROZEN FRESH.
It’s written several times.
Eventually, he backs down.
But honestly... m.a.t.e.?
I felt sad.
Because of the lack of limitation to not even try!!! Having preconceived ideas!!!!
As I thought of those four meals potentially ending up in the bin because of a misunderstanding that could have been avoided by reading the information provided.
Anyway…
After a while, once I’d stopped overthinking the whole thing, my imagination took over.
I started fantasising that eventually…
HUNGER would kick in.
Curiosity would kick in.
He’d look at those meals sitting there and think:
“Well… I might as well try one.”
He'd heat it up.
Take a bite.
Pause.
Take another bite.
And then…
“Bloody hell… this is actually GOOD!” 😂😂😂
Maybe.
Just maybe.
Because sometimes, you don't know what you're missing until you actually taste it.
And THAT, my friends, is why I will continue to put F.R.E.S.H. F.R.O.Z.E.N. in L.A.R.G.E. PRINT. 😂
Caribbean Takeaway ... freshly cooked, frozen to lock in the flavour, and delivered directly to your door. DPD tracked!
Comments