dash

they force us to be what they expect us to be.  even worse is how we become it.

I have considered lately

the many times I’ve been “put in my place”

given a role to fill and little else

yet attempts made to convince me

all of this is great and I should be

thankful

I should be a willing participant in the elevation of a plan

which could, quite possibly, change then change again

subtly told without words that I am not essential, only needed

which is one in the same is it not

a design for someone else’s comfort

rules apply yet don’t

never enough, ever

they force us to be what they expect us to be.  even worse is how we become it.

*words in italics are a quote from “Zoli”, a novel by Colum McCann


It started during spring break. I received a text late, late one night. I am not the best when I wake up in the middle of the night. I often have a hard time concentrating and the rational eludes me. My first thought was someone had obtained my credit card number and was ordering fast food. My next thought being if you were bold enough to steal, at least buy something better than a cheeseburger. But, it all came together in time and I realized. Somehow my phone number got connected to Door Dash. So I receive odd texts and at times, phones calls, from people wondering where their order is. Mind you. I am not a Door Dasher nor have I ever been. I don’t believe I’ve ever even utilized Door Dash for a delivery, as I, for whatever reason, choose to pick up my food myself. Or cook. Most of the time I simply cook my own. I think I’ve used Grubhub during work situations. No judgement if you are a Door Dasher or use the service. And yes, yes I know due to the pandemic it suits many. Great, I say. What a world we live in. Prepared food delivered straight to your door. Until…your food is out there lost and you can’t contact the driver because you think it’s me and it’s clearly, clearly…not!

I have experienced varying degrees of trying to figure out how to remove my number from whatever database or list Door Dash is drawing from. I have texted back: STOP. WRONG NUMBER. I have received replies stating I didn’t have to be rude. I have texted: Sorry. Wrong number. I am not a delivery person. Somehow my number got entered by mistake. Sometimes people respond back: So sorry. Sometimes nothing. And the best is when people actually call. I generally do not answer calls from people I don’t know or am not expecting a call from. Well…people who have not received their food often call repeatedly. I have, at times, answered or called them back to kindly report I do not have their food. Often they are apologetic and confused. Once someone said: Oh, hell! and hung up.

My first attempt at contacting Door Dash in hopes of fixing this led me to a phone discussion with a woman who suggested I contact my phone carrier. I responded I was unsure as to how AT&T would be able to assist with this issue. I continued to receive texts. My second attempt at contacting Door Dash was via their online chat. The person assured me this problem would be resolved and for a while, it seemed to be. Then…it began again. Therefore, I’m not sure what to do. Companies such as this make it difficult to reach them with concerns, complaints, etc. Perhaps for good reason.

Oddly, many of the numbers I receive messages from have a San Fransisco area code. I don’t live anywhere close to California. Although sometimes the texts state the customer is located at a Lexington address, the city I reside in, or a familiar local place such as the University of KY Hospital (customer states to use entrance #2). I have also been referred to as Astral. So…Astral, if you’re reading this. Please try your best to get Door Dash your correct number!


I imagine it’s a case of someone mistyping. Entering a wrong digit at some point. It’s really sort of funny. And for the most part it humors me except in the middle of the night. When someone in the Bay Area doesn’t receive their burrito and they’re annoyed. Yesterday I noticed someone place a bag and a beverage outside a door near where I live. Then left. I saw this afternoon, both items are still there. Which begs the question…did the “dasher” leave this order at the wrong address? It’s all so crazy! It is a reminder though. People often believe us to be something we are not. And/or people wish us to be what they want us to be.

I am considering...attempting to market some of the watercolor pieces I have painted. Mostly as greeting cards. Maybe as framed paintings to hang on ones wall. Not sure if it's worth the effort, which is why I'm in the consideration phase. Plus a month or so back, I told myself nope. Concentrate on my writing. I'm not a painter. And I agreed with myself yet here I am. Back considering. Putting oneself out there is not the easiest and everyones a critic plus hardly anyone actually mails cards anymore (which is rather sad, in my opinion) but anyway. I've thought recently I'd like a new project so why not? 


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