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I had taken the job because the pay was decent. I thought it would be fun to be everybody’s everyday Santa, delivering all the stuff people were waiting for. A guy with an English literature Ph.D. driving a UPS truck? Sure, why not. I made more money driving the big brown parcel truck than I would’ve been making as an adjunct professor. It was better than being a guy with an English literature Ph.D. riding the unemployment bus. And even if I didn’t meet a girlfriend, I did see a lot of interesting parts of Manhattan. Every day my route was a little bit different. And that day, it took me to one of the New York Public Libraries.
“Oh, delivery? Um, we’ll have to get Eleanor for that.” The library wasn’t one of my regular stops. For whatever reason, they didn’t get UPS packages. The desk clerk at the front of the library wasn’t accustomed to seeing the UPS truck, and I wasn’t accustomed to seeing her either. “We usually only get stuff by USPS. Government funding regulations stuff,” she explained. At the same time, she tapped her fingers on the desk and looked toward the back room, awaiting whoever Eleanor was.
Finally, a curvy, young, full-busted, green-eyed, eyeglass-wearing hipster emerged from the back room. That must’ve been Eleanor. “Sorry, we do all our hiring online, no in-person applications,” she said, then turned around on the tips of her black leather heels and started disappearing back to the librarian-cavern she’d come from.
“No,” I spoke in unison with the desk clerk.
“Donation and sponsorship requests, please fill out the form on our website. Thanks.” The hipster girl righted her glasses to add emphasis to her avoidance of me. She looked like a cat trying to escape a bath, wanting to run back into the back room.
“I’m —” I started to say while holding up the UPS logo embroidered on my uniform. Everybody knew the UPS logo.
“Sorry, I can’t see that far,” hipster-woman answered. I was still far behind the desk, just a step away from the exit door she’d been almost running toward. She seemed afraid of approaching any closer. And her glasses appeared to be an inch thick.
“I’m the UPS delivery driver.” I again pointed to the logo on my uniform. “I’ve got some boxes for you.”
“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?” she asked, hurrying forward.
“I did, but—”
It wasn’t worth rehashing the detail of past conversations to some librarian I’d never see again. Even if that librarian was gorgeous and adorably shy and I wouldn’t mind seeing her again and again.
“Anyway, I just need you to sign, and then I can bring in the boxes.” I lay the electronic signature pad on the library counter in front of Eleanor.
She looked down, took the plastic stylus in her hand, sniffed it for some reason, then put it to the signature pad and signed her name. Her signature ended with a flourish. Maybe she, like me, had once daydreamed of being a writer, signing my words with a flourish.
The desk clerk who’d earlier received me now winked to me. “Hey Mr. UPS Man, you already got Eleanor’s name, so can you maybe tell her your name?” She smiled and looked at Eleanor, then at me.
Eleanor shook her head and signaled for her to pipe down. I felt singularly uncomfortable with the clerk’s unsubtle attempts at matchmaking. Eleanor wiped a blonde lock of hair from her forehead and again righted her glasses while the clerk grinned mischievously at me. She knew what she was up to, and she loved it.
I tried to sound as businesslike as possible. “I’m Aiden. Aiden Green. UPS delivery driver Aiden Green.” As businesslike as a UPS driver who was checking out a cute librarian trying to run away from me could sound.
The clerk squeezed Librarian Eleanor’s arm as if Eleanor was expected to somehow act on that information bibliographically. Eleanor only shook her head again and waved her away.
Eleanor was cute, check. Nerdy, check. Brainy, probably; not many people worked in a library unless they liked books. Single, possibly. If her coworker, the front desk clerk, was to be believed.
Eleanor was the kind of girl I could imagine myself dating one day. Was it appropriate for me to pursue love with a delivery recipient? Nope. The company would disapprove. GPS tracking would disapprove. I should keep my eyes and mind on the delivery packages instead of imagining things with a cute librarian who might not even be single.
I forced myself to walk away from the front desk area. Eleanor left too. Then a display shelf caught my eye.
“Oh, you’ve got the new James Patterson novel?” I called out to nobody in particular. Eleanor emerged from the back room, through the entrance out to the main downstairs book area.
“Yeah, sure, we’ve got everything. We get it in at the same time as any bookstore,” she nodded.
