Bouquet number 47 went to a second-floor apartment with no railing on the stairs and a dog behind the door that sounded like a much bigger dog than it turned out to be. I held a dozen red roses in a glass vase out in front of me like it was a live grenade. It's 8:40 at night as I write this, the van is in the driveway, and my arms are still a little tired.
Tina manages a flower shop downtown, and Valentine's Day is her worst day of the year, tied with Mother's Day. This year it landed on a Saturday, which means more orders going to homes instead of offices, which means more driving. Their regular delivery driver couldn't cover the whole day alone, so I volunteered the Sienna and myself. Garrett, who got his license two weeks ago, volunteered to ride along and carry things, which I suspect had more to do with being allowed to pick the radio.
The day by the numbers
We loaded the first run at 8:15 in the morning and pulled in from the last one at 7:50.
- Bouquets delivered: 61
- Runs back to the shop to reload: 5
- Miles on the van: 118
- Gas used: about 7 gallons, roughly $20, which the shop covered
- Nobody home, left with a neighbor or rescheduled: 4
- Vases broken: 0
118 miles sounds like a lot for one town. Most of it was St. Joseph: the north end, Frederick Avenue, up and down the Belt Highway, apartments on the south side. But a handful of orders went out to the small towns around us, and those trips add up fast. One run out toward Savannah was 30 miles round trip for two bouquets. My dad lives up there, and I thought about stopping in, then remembered I had roses sweating in the back and a florist waiting on me.
What I learned about the van
The Sienna turned out to be a pretty good delivery vehicle. With the third row folded down and the second-row seats pushed forward, the shop's staff set the arrangements in cardboard boxes cut to hold them upright. A rubber mat underneath kept the boxes from sliding. The biggest risk was me, braking too hard or taking a corner like I was late for something, which I was all day.
It was in the 30s with sun, which is good flower weather. Too cold and the flowers can get hurt between the van and the door. Too warm and the van turns into a greenhouse. I ran the heat low and kept the back vents closed.
The van's at 199,100 and change. The new battery we put in after the cold snap last month didn't flinch with all the stopping and starting, about 70 key turns by Garrett's count. The 200,000 mark is maybe a month away. Lainey has already ordered the cake in her mind.
Delivery driving is mostly finding the right door. House numbers are faded or missing. Apartment buildings have three entrances. Phone numbers go to voicemail. The flowers are the easy part.
Garrett got good at it by about noon. He'd read the next address out loud while I parked, spot the number before I did and have the bouquet out of the box by the time I got around the van. He was polite at every door. One older woman cried when he handed her roses from her son in Kansas City, and he came back to the van very quiet and said, "That was kind of a big deal for her." Yes, it was.
For my part, I got better at parking legally, which matters on a day like this. A ticket would have wiped out the whole point of helping.
Would I do it again
Yes. Tina came out to the van at the end of the night, still in her apron, and said they'd never gotten through Valentine's that clean. Every order out the door, the last one before 8:00. She was too tired to say anything else, and I was too tired to make a joke about it, which tells you something.
I'm not giving up dispatching for a delivery career. But it's worth seeing what a florist's busiest day looks like from the driver's seat, and I'll never complain about a delivery fee on flowers again. 118 miles, 61 doors, five reloads and a teenager who learned more about people in one day than in a semester. The van earned its supper too.