Faster than his own shadow
Back in high school, the curriculum included lot of subject matter that didn’t seem relevant. Apart from the years spent in sentence analysis, or equation analysis or verbal analysis or (we had extremely analytical courses), there was the one physical subject. Physical education, phys. ed., gym, PT. The one course guaranteed to make you sweat. And the defining moment of the year was the session of timed wind sprints. I’ve finally discovered what place that particular task has in the formation of future employees.
The guy that drives the postal delivery truck must have excelled at this one task. This morning, I had reason to await a delivery. I’ve been following the progress of the package via the Internet, and I know exactly how many hours were spent by that parcel inside the Toronto facility. I can tell you exactly how many hours were spent in transit from one province to another. And I can tell you exactly how many seconds were spent by the delivery truck in the final phase of the journey, from arrival at my civic number through to departure: seventeen.
The dog began to bark even before the truck had stopped rolling. I made one grab for her collar, missed, grabbed again, dragged her upstairs and closed the door and then made a run for my front door. The truck was already gone. Some stories end happily; he hadn’t left me one of those cardboard door hangers that require the use of a pen to inform you your parcel can be picked up (elsewhere) sometime after lunch tomorrow. No, this time around I won; the parcel was left leaning against my front door. No doorbell, no knock, nothing except the plastic-covered bundle ( a nice touch in the wind and rain). I figure that the delivery man was literally faster than his own shadow. Good wind sprint scores do prepare you for that occupational niche in life.
