The new man in my life is playing hard to get. Real hard to get. He stops by weekly, helps me out, then leaves. Fast. In a big truck. And his name is Alfonso. Or Alfonzo. Or Alphonso. Or something like that. But today…today he shook my hand, looked me in the eye, and smiled. You see, I turned my charm on today. But it was totally necessary! Alas, I think we may be best friends.
Last Thursday, see, (that’s the day he always comes over) he just wasn’t interested in picking up all those bags of compost. So I called. And I called. And I called six times. And right around call number 5, I lost all my charm and started to find myself taking on a down-right un-charming tone. But what is a lady to do? It’s not as if I can say, “ya’ know what? I’m leaving your garbage company and taking my business to the other garbage company!” ‘Cause you know what? There are no other garbage companies!!! My hands were tied. Completely helpless. Plus, how much of a pill do you really want to be to the guy who knows where you live??
So after those six phone calls, my lovely compost-picker-upper-man, dutifully returned today. Thursday. With his great, big truck. And I heard that giant motor and those squeaky breaks, and I stripped off my PJ’s (and threw on my most dainty yard-work jeans), grabbed my gloves and ran outside to meet the man of the week. We talked it over like two civilized beings, trying to make the relationship work.
And I discovered that it was all founded on poor communication. (But isn’t it always?) When I had spoken to his other woman (the compost-picker-upper-man’s dispatcher-lady), she said that I could put out (ahem) as many bags as I wanted. So I did. But he said I was being unrealistic. And I saw his point. Really I did. I mean, frankly, I’m an understanding person. I’m not trying to “dog” him (his words). I’m just trying to get the D#&% (oops, there goes the charm again) compost picked up. So I pledged to help him.
Now I’m kinda small. Like 5’2 (and a half????) and not even 110 pounds. But as I like to tell those big boys at work, ” I may be small, but I sure can be feisty!”. And I think he was surprised. Because, there he was, easily twice my weight complaining about those heavy bags, and there I was, picking them up and throwing them in the truck. Well, actually, the truck was way too high for me, but I did hand the bags to him so he could throw them in the truck. (I’ve spent the last 6 years of my career learning to “run with the big boys” and I wasn’t about to stop now!) And then he smiled. My new best friend Alfonzo. And he shook my hand. And then…..he actually volunteered to come back tomorrow, after his shift, and help me with the rest.
And this is why it’s a win-win(squared). I get the double-win. My compost is gone and I get to try out a new method to improve upon my chocolate chip cookies. And Alphonso gets the single-win because he gets to eat ’em. (Assuming he actually shows tomorrow) But that’s all part of the game right? Hard to get.
And maybe by next year I’ll learn how to spell his name. In the meantime he’s been lovingly nicknamed my-compost-picker-upper-man.