Friday, May 11, 2012

What's with the Flowers?

I pull into my driveway today and see there is a floral arrangement adorned with a Mylar balloon sitting on the front stairs of the house. I muster a mug of sorts and out loud to myself utter, "What's with the Flowers?" I quickly went through my mental Rolodex and couldn't think of anyone who might send me flowers, I had no idea what they were all about.

I get the car into the garage then walk around to the front to investigate and see that wile my address is on the delivery label, the name was for someone that doesn't live at my house - I know this because I am the only one who lives there full time, my daughter, part-time (and they weren't for her). Besides, the balloon said "Congratulations" - there wasn't anything in my world going on to warrant such acclaim.

I took the flowers inside and looked at the attached card for clues. The card was partly in Portuguese and partly in English - my ex-wife is Brazilian but I'd think that if someone were spending the 50-75 dollars I estimate this arrangement to cost, they would know she doesn't live there and more important, would know her name (which was not the one on the card or delivery tag).

The card attached did have a phone number for the sending florist so I thought to call them and let them know of their mess up. Three calls in a row ring for a bunch of times then go to a busy signal - odd. I let some time pass to change out of my shirt and tie for jeans and a t-shirt then kicked back on the couch for a wee bit before trying the florist again. After several failed attempts with the florist, I figured that it was at least likely the person for whom they were intended lives in the same town, so I googled the name first - not enough data. Then, I went to the white pages with no luck.

A more careful inspection of the delivery tag had me spot a phone number with the same first three numbers as mine, which indicate the same town as me so I did a reverse look up of the number and hit some gold. The number came up for the listing at house number 30 (I live at 50). In my brain, I imagines someone taking a phone order (though I wasn't sure how they managed to get through the busy signals) and whoever wrote the information down wrote a sloppy 30 that was transcribed by the person who typed it into the computer to generate the label as the number 50.

Anyway, I figured these should really get in the hands of whom they were intended, so I chose to deliver them myself; and I did.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

A not so random act of kindness.