Delivery

The other day, the temperature had climbed above 80 degrees which made it much too hot to walk the requisite five blocks to the grocery store. I just don’t “do” hot weather. So, I hopped online to Peapod, our nifty grocery delivery service and began filling out my order.

Peapod is really great. They have everything. A jicama? It’s there. Organic game hens? Just click on their little bodies and they’ll be delivered.

Although the prices are a little, well, pricey, the delivery charges are pretty nominal. You just select a two-hour window when you want your delivery and it’ll be there.

As I was clicking things into my virtual shopping cart, I thought about my grandmother (“Budgie”) in my little bitty home town. Budgie would have just loved Peapod.

The thing is, we had a wonderful grocery delivery service in my little bitty home town. We only had one grocery store but they would deliver and Budgie often took advantage of that.

She was not a lazy woman by any means. It’s just that she was such an extrovert and loved people so much – grocery shopping would only take up valuable time that she could have been spending with her friends.

We could phone up the grocery store by dialing “201” (you only had to dial three numbers for a local call) and Budgie would place her order.

She would request a “Sunday roast” and the butcher would know that it meant a large shoulder cut. If she ordered a watermelon, they would place it in the cooler ahead of time because they knew she liked them cold. (Budgie and I adored watermelon.)

Off she would go, looking in on friends, on elderly people that needed looking in on, and the groceries would arrive.

The thing is, it didn’t matter if no one was home. They would come in the back door, leave the groceries in a box on the counter and even put the cold items in the fridge and the frozen things in the freezer.

She had a “yard man”, an elderly fellow named Ham-Bone, and if he was around he would accept the delivery. But Ham-Bone’s presence was not required.

Everyone had a charge account at the grocery store. If I was sent on my bike to procure a loaf of bread, I could just tell the clerk to charge it to Budgie’s account. Once a month or so, she’d stop by and pay the bill.

Forty years later, I’m sitting at the computer filling out my order. I glanced at Budgie’s note pad on my desk - - the one she got from the grocery store and had by her telephone for decades.
I still have it.

I’d have to click on just the right item or else I might end up with Soy Moo instead of Silk soy milk. The Peapod people won’t know automatically what I really would have wanted.

I’d have to be home during the two-hour time slot for they surely won’t leave it with the security guard if I’m not there. He’s certainly no Ham-Bone.

I wanted a watermelon so I clicked on that.

$8.99 for a little watermelon?? Are you kidding me??

(Budgie would have flipped out over that)

I may not like hot weather, but I’m cheap.

I got my lazy butt to the store.