Most nights at my delivery job, I experience a series of “I wanna quit right now”, and “I hate this”, and “Secret Clinical Strength Stress Sweat deodorant really phoning it in” – type moments.
Recently, I had a conversation with a girl in her early twenties who looked like she just woke up at 8pm, the two of us standing in the doorway of her ginormous Hollywood Hills home — about how delivery driving “isn’t like, the worst job you could have”. I agreed, like a proper second class citizen. And neither of us could come up with any examples of heinous-er occupations. I said “Yeah. It’s… pretty… um. It can be fun…”
She closed the door of the home her billionaire father built for her. Well, first he bought the $8M lot, demolished the house on the property, and constructed her a nice new $12M one. Like ya do. It’s literally Monopoly come to life around there.
And I’m the iron, just trying to get a house on Mediterranean.
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It’s been a bonkers few weeks, lately. Ervin and I have opposite schedules, so we decided to get lunch together one Saturday afternoon. (Hi, yes. We live together. Oh, life!)
Lauren Bair
