“I believe you were expecting this.”
What the hell!
“You got this delivered to you?” I ask, touching it gingerly.
He nods. “Got it about half an hour ago from some deliveryman from—”
“Beetle Couriers?”
He chuckles. “Exactly.”
I would have doubted if I were told that a deliveryman fromBeetle Couriercould commit such a grave blunder, delivering a package to the wrong address and confirming its reception via email. I retrieve the box from him.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Burnes. This is an annoying mistake. Silly mistakes like this get me wondering why professionalism keeps missing in the operational equations of these startups.”
He shrugs. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Some mistakes shouldn’t be made.”
He nods. “I guess you’re right. New York isn't a place for the weak. We still have startups that run on the precepts of professionalism.”
“You know so?”
He shrugs. “I think so!”
He turns to the box. “About that, I think the mix-up is from the orderer's end.”
I raise my brows and fix him with a sharp stare.
“Excuse me?”
He smiles and pokes the spot on my door where my apartment number is emboldened in silver font.
“124 is what we've got here on your door, but the orderer's address contained the wrong number.”
“125. Your apartment's number?”
He turns and points at his door. “Right there in bold.”
“So, he actually delivered to the right address?”
“Technically, yes.”
We both burst into laughter. I stop when it hits me with a gripping shock that I filled in the wrong address in my order and almost dragged the company through the mud for being carelessly unprofessional.
“Once again, thank you so much, Richard. I really appreciate this.”
“I’m just doing the right thing. Being a good neighbor.”
“Interesting.”
We smile at each other, then fall silent. Without pausing to mull over my decision, I nod to my half-open door and blurt out.
“Would you mind having a cup of coffee with me?”
He frowns and looks across his shoulder.
“Come on. You don't take coffee? You can have a glass of Vodka. Whiskey? Wine? What is it exactly?”