A Man for Every Day of the Week

I’ve taken to running errands on my lunch hour. I run to the bank. I get my car washed. Today I ran to the grocery store and picked up some fresh veggies. It would be great to have a delivery service to bring my groceries to me.

Today I was involved in a discussion about the milkman, a bit of reminiscing. Some of you may remember him. When I was a girl we had a big tin box on the front porch. The milk man would come around twice a week and place a couple gallons of milk and maybe some half-and-half or cottage cheese or whatever extra order Mom had placed for him on the little yellow slip of paper that she clipped on the box with a clothespin. If she forgot to order the extra before she ran off to work in the morning it was always a loud “shit!” when she got home that night and started preparing dinner.

Seems there used to me more “men” around who did certain tasks for single women in the old days. Please know that I’m smiling as I type this. I’m fully aware that a woman could have done those jobs. Today’s talk about the milkman disintegrated exactly as you might expect. Today a group of women began to talk about just who we might want to come around once a week. There were laughs and sideways smiles, smirks and talk of servicing us.

Mechanics. Plumbers. Cabana Boys. Chefs.

Here’s how it ended up.

Mostly we wanted someone to:

Wash our cars. Go to the bank. Do our grocery shopping.

Ha! So I guess all the old jokes of having the milkman come around are just that - old. We tried to keep up the jokes and the innuendo. We just couldn’t do it.

There is no sideways way to say it.

Sometimes an oil change is just an oil change.


©Michelle Scofield, April 20, 2011 All Rights Reserved