Surpriseless

Late this afternoon our doorbell rings. Because our intercom is broken, these days I hit the buzzer to enable the front door to open, and then I walk out of my apartment to see who is entering our building. Nine times out of ten it is a package courier who shouts up hello and places a package on the bureau we have in the downstairs hallway (unless, of course, they need a signature). So imagine my surprise, today, when the guy carrying the package into my building was not only not wearing a uniform, but he came bolting up the stairs to meet me.

Holding out a small-ish Amazon.com box, he starts rambling, "I live next door and we got this package and since my mom's name is Cathleen I didn't even look at it carefully and just opened it, but then I realized it wasn't meant for me, and so I'm sorry that the box is opened but it's a Garmin sportswatch and it's all in there."

I looked at him, blankly.

He extended his hand, "I'm Justin." I think he said Justin. He just ruined the surprise of the birthday gift that Cathleen got for me; why the fuck should I care what his name is? As he descended back down the stairs, he apologized again for opening the box, and then added an enthusiastic, "enjoy that Garmin sportswatch!"

This is December, right? Justin might not have known that it's my birthday in five days, but it's my impression that lots of people are ordering gifts for other people for other reasons at this time of year. I kind of wish he had taken that into consideration before ruining the surprise.

Not that anything was truly ruined for me. Most of the enjoyment of the actual surprise is all for the surprisor. Hell, I'm gonna be really psyched to have that Garmin watch whether I know about it now or first learned about it five days from now. But Cathleen has been robbed of the joy of watching me unwrap and discover the cool, thoughtful gift. Stupid Justin.