Post by grahamthomson on Jan 9, 2010 20:44:49 GMT
I know!, I thought to myself this bright, snowy morning. I'll take all the Energon toys that I currently have listed on eBay to work and start packaging them up. It'll be nice to be ahead of the game for once, and get them ready to send out as soon as the auctions end on Sunday evening.
I packed them all up, each in their individual plastic bags, all accessories, trading cards and instructions accounted for, all in one sturdy cardboard box.
The way to work was as it had been all week; the main roads, grudgingly gritted by the council, were clear, but the side streets, untreated, remained treacherously unforgiving.
Work, being on a rather old and run-down industrial estate, is untreated. The car has to go into four wheel drive mode to cope. We're behind a FedEx depot and on Saturdays, vans and trucks mill about. The drivers, experienced each, navigate the icy roads and driveways with arrogant abandon, confident of their ability to handle their vehicles.
As I pulled up outside work, I quickly stepped outside of the car gasping as the cold air snatched by breath. I didn't want to stay outside too long. I didn't want to waste any time in the cold, just get the box of toys out of the boot and into the packing area where the bubble-wrap and parcel tape waited on stand-by.
With narrow vision I hastened myself to the back of the car and lifted open the boot. With one arm I grabbed the box and with the other, I grappled with the boot door. As I turned, eager to get indoors, I lost my footing and slipped on the ice. It wasn't a clumsy trip that could easily be recovered from but a full, arms flailing, legs sprawling, pantomime fall forwards. Body surface to road ratio was embarrassingly high. My face slapped against the ice and my lungs collapsed.
For a split second I lay, face down, spread-eagled and dazed. And then, realising that my box of Transformers had loosened from my grip and skidded several feet away from where I'd fallen, I heard the whine of brake-locked tyres on ice and a muffled crumple of cardbox and plastic.
The FedEx truck had stopped too late and my box of Transformers had become plastic pizza.
I picked up my glasses and bit my lip. The FedEx driver, visibly apologetic, jumped from his cab and dashed over to help me to my feet. I was fine. He then picked up the mass of wet cardboard and broken toys and handed it to me, wincing.
"I hope that wasn't important," he said.
"Nothing," I said, straightening my glasses. "Don't worry about it."
Eager to get out of the cold, and not wanting to cry in front of a truck driver, I threw the dead box back into the car and came home. The contents were unsalvageable, crushed beyond recognition. My patience worn down, I binned the whole lot and made for my computer to cancel the eBay auctions.
I knew I should have just stayed at home and made a snowman today.
I packed them all up, each in their individual plastic bags, all accessories, trading cards and instructions accounted for, all in one sturdy cardboard box.
The way to work was as it had been all week; the main roads, grudgingly gritted by the council, were clear, but the side streets, untreated, remained treacherously unforgiving.
Work, being on a rather old and run-down industrial estate, is untreated. The car has to go into four wheel drive mode to cope. We're behind a FedEx depot and on Saturdays, vans and trucks mill about. The drivers, experienced each, navigate the icy roads and driveways with arrogant abandon, confident of their ability to handle their vehicles.
As I pulled up outside work, I quickly stepped outside of the car gasping as the cold air snatched by breath. I didn't want to stay outside too long. I didn't want to waste any time in the cold, just get the box of toys out of the boot and into the packing area where the bubble-wrap and parcel tape waited on stand-by.
With narrow vision I hastened myself to the back of the car and lifted open the boot. With one arm I grabbed the box and with the other, I grappled with the boot door. As I turned, eager to get indoors, I lost my footing and slipped on the ice. It wasn't a clumsy trip that could easily be recovered from but a full, arms flailing, legs sprawling, pantomime fall forwards. Body surface to road ratio was embarrassingly high. My face slapped against the ice and my lungs collapsed.
For a split second I lay, face down, spread-eagled and dazed. And then, realising that my box of Transformers had loosened from my grip and skidded several feet away from where I'd fallen, I heard the whine of brake-locked tyres on ice and a muffled crumple of cardbox and plastic.
The FedEx truck had stopped too late and my box of Transformers had become plastic pizza.
I picked up my glasses and bit my lip. The FedEx driver, visibly apologetic, jumped from his cab and dashed over to help me to my feet. I was fine. He then picked up the mass of wet cardboard and broken toys and handed it to me, wincing.
"I hope that wasn't important," he said.
"Nothing," I said, straightening my glasses. "Don't worry about it."
Eager to get out of the cold, and not wanting to cry in front of a truck driver, I threw the dead box back into the car and came home. The contents were unsalvageable, crushed beyond recognition. My patience worn down, I binned the whole lot and made for my computer to cancel the eBay auctions.
I knew I should have just stayed at home and made a snowman today.
That is always my nightmare when struggling home with big boxes in the ice and snow
