Page 25 of Definitely Not a Thing
For research.
She grinned – there were dimples! – doing that lip bite thing again before she answered. “I’m saying… you heard of Christina Aguilera, right? That song?—”
“Girl!” I cut her off, choking back a laugh. “Are you not mid-delivery right now?”
“I ain’t worried about that – my backpack is downstairs in my car. You got your food, them other folks can wait for me to make some wishes come true, you know what I’m saying?”
I scoffed. “I know exactly what you’re saying – youreallyshouldn’t be saying it to me.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Oh my bad, you not with the rainbow?”
“That is quite literally not at all the point,” I answered. “You should not be propositioning me while providing a service – and not even doing it well.”
“You saying I don’t have motion?”
“I’m saying I didn’t order this,” I explained, holding up the box that was making a mess of my hands. “It’s clearly been in this box a long time – longer than it should. And you had the salad in the hot bag with it, so that’s not even edible anymore.” I peeked at the ticket taped to the salad container. “This order was placed two hours ago. The pickup time was an hour and a half ago. Bella’s is literally five minutes from here. What were you doing?”
Jeanie shrugged. “I had other orders, my bad.”
“There’s no way this doesn’t mess with your rating in the app.”
Her eyes went wide. “You gone one-star me over a little flirting? That’s cold, pretty girl. It’s also giving a little ‘phobic… a littleantiif you know what I mean.”
“I know you need to besofor real right now,” I countered, trying to hand her the food back. “I can’t rate you, because it’s not my order, first of all. Second, I was referencing you taking your sweet time to deliver food that cannot be eaten.”
She sucked her teeth. “Man, whatever – I got my girl waiting in the car, and other orders. I don’t have time for this.”
“You were offering to go get your backpack while you have somebody waiting in the car for you? Get the fuck on somewhere, and take this shit with you,” I said, not even trying to keep it even slightly professional anymore.
“What the fuck am I gonna do with that?” she said, heading down the hall. “I’ll just mark it delivered in the app.”
“That’s a lie!” I called after her, and she turned to me with that glittery grin.
“What canyoudo about it?” she shrugged. “You can’t rate me, and Calvin from the second floor didn’t have enough sense to put his apartment number, so… fuck it. Y’all have a good night.”
And then she was gone, taking the stairs instead of waiting on the elevator.
Leaving me standing in the hall with calzone grease dripping on the floor.
“What canIdo about it?” I asked myself out loud. “She saidwhat can you do about itlike I can’t fucking do something about it,” I muttered, stepping back into my apartment and closing the door. “I’ma show you what I can fucking do about it.”
Inside, I started to drop the food into the trash, then opted for the counter instead. I scrubbed my hands – and then cussed Jeanie’s ass out a little more as I cleaned up the trail of grease on the floor.
Once that was done, I went for my computer, navigating to theProxysystem that contained our database of “partners” – the people who provided service to others in whatever capacity.
For now, I was looking for the food delivery drivers.
I was able to find the profile easily – there was more than one “Jeanie” in various spellings, but the ratings and reviews made it simple to pick out the right one. She was consistently late, often inappropriate, and the person pictured on the profile wasnotactually her, which was a security violation I made a note to speak to that team about. The only thing keeping her account from being restricted due to low-performance was the occasionally five-stars that I suspected were coming from women who’d waited on the backpack.
“VERY satisfactory delivery, would rate ten stars if I could. Attentive and focused. Hands-on service. Very communicative. Timely. Highly recommend if you need a personal touch.”
On a fucking bbq plate dropoff?
There was no damn way.
For now, I simply flagged the account to have a discussion with the right people, instead of restricting it, or simply shutting her down like I wanted. Because I’d had a direct – contentious – interaction with her, there would be a need to speak with legal, blah, blah, blah.
It was all so annoying.
