The Highs and Lows of Waiting for a Delivery

An emotional roller coaster ride.

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The Highs and Lows of Waiting for a Delivery

After stalking that perfect prey, intently tracking it down until it’s finally found, the trophy is pretty much within grasp. You rub your hands together in eagerness before clicking on the ‘Place Order’ button.

Now the emotional roller coaster ride begins.

Childlike excitement.

There’s a new toy coming. You bounce, you pounce, you squeal and you hop about, as if you’re bursting with liquid sunshine from within. The peace in the streets shatters by your euphoria, as you walk with a spring in your steps, grinning ear to ear at people who looks right at you with an expression that screams “WTF”.

Sadly, this excitement doesn’t last long.

Anticipation is half the fun.

You wonder how everything will look and fit in real life. You start viewing unboxing videos. When it isn’t enough, you research online for examples, hacks and setup videos. Then you stumble upon new upgrade items that could complement your purchase. Oh, look! I need that fancy $2k Graf von Faber-Castel Pen for my notebook! The solid goldplated staples are on sale, only $150 per pack of 24!

My broom, my lance.

You only stop your spree when you realize you just spent all your food money. That valiant and bodacious knight, having exhausted all his gold on a topgallant chain mail hauberk, now can only fend off the enemies with a chicken-shit broomstick.

Stalker power now activated.

I am watching you.

You track your order online. Honey, Sit tight, I’m still marinating at Cupertino. Those live tracking updates sent directly to your phone is like watching an old friend making a trek across countries to arrive directly at your doorstep. So beautiful you could fucking be in tears.

Growing impatience.

GRUMPY

The honeymoon period of waiting for your package is over. You have checked your tracking for the fifth time in just five minutes and it still says “processing”. Sigh.

If only I could just not be distracted.

Coffee Break

In three hours, you will have five hours left at work. Time for a coffee break. You wonder why your mail still needs further processing in the post office while you queue at Starbucks. One Midnight Mail Mocha, please.

Blargh!
Midnight Mint Mocha.

HANGRY HANGRY.

Incredible Hangry Hulk

You stomach snarls and howls. You hit the kitchen to make yourself a meal. You barely can formulate a thought, yet a caricature of an imaginary dude bugs you. He’s late, whoever the delivery man is, and he is hunkered down in his truck by the roadside. His head tilted against the window and with his eyes shut. Slacker.

And a hungry man is an angry man. You pick up a piece of breakfast sausage and start sharpening it like it is a blunt spear tip. The Melba toast is prepared in the shape of a shuriken. You gaze blankly at the potatoes on the table while making a mental schematic of a spud gun.

Eventually, you chomp down your breakfast with a few gargantuan bites after realizing there is really no one to plunge your paws onto and strike at.

Pleasant bolt from the blue.

You check tracking again. Shazaam!! It has finally arrived at your town’s mailing station and waiting to be delivered!

The unprecedented delivery day.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

You spend the whole day waiting on your doorstep with a rush of armour fou, an attack of collywobbles, and suppressed excitement that your package will be delivered today. Like a dog waiting for your owner to come home, without an expected timing or frame of reference and so there’s a question of “When will it arrive?” going on in your mind.

Only when the clock strikes five that you realized something. Fuck, it’s a Friday. Now you have to wait until Monday. Thud. The sound of your balls hitting the floor. This is it. Excruciating and brutal.

Happy Bit-lated Delivery!

Come Monday, the package does arrive. You receive it coolly from the delivery man who has no freaking idea that you were stalking him while he was parking his truck, taking out the parcel, and slowly (agonizingly-dreadfully-painfully slow) walking up to your doorstep.

You remain cool and collected, no bustle or flurrying. Until, until the door closes. Hell Yeah! Without any shilly-shally, you rip open the parcel, like a bear opening a box of cereals.

It is at this point that you feel your heart dancing in your chest, sending electricity that sparkles your mind, body, and soul — before you know it, the whoop of delight is echoing off the bare walls.

What a moment.

What a moment.