Delivering peaches to Congressmen. Hilarity ensues.
Yesterday while working on the hill as a lowly intern, I found myself completing a most unusual and seemingly insignificant task–but because my importance on Capitol hill ranks perhaps even lower than that of the task within my office, and because I had nothing else to do, I enthusiastically agreed.
The task set forth to me by the complacent charlatan whose title is chief of staff was this: “go to congressman alexander’s office and help them deliver peaches, for as long as they need you.” slightly offended, admittedly surprised, and undoubtedly curious, my response wouldn’t exactly bring Proust mind: “ok, sounds good.”
An hour and a half later, after I had completed the deliveries of three dolleys-full of Ruston, LA peaches to dozens of congressional offices full of fatigued, lethargic staffers, I stumbled into the reception area of an office the congressman of which shall remain unnamed.
The receptionist, presumably another intern equally as unambitious as I, stared at the box of peaches I plopped down on his desk with a raised eyebrow. Here is the conversation that took place.
Me: “These fresh peaches are from congressman Alexander. They’re delicious. You guys enjoy them.”
Guy: “Are you from Georgia?”
Me: “No, Louisiana actually.”
Guy: “Why the fuck would I eat peaches from Louisiana?”
Me: “they’re free, they’re delicious, and I brought- -”
Guy: “Look guy- -”
Me: “I”m not your guy, buddy- -”
Guy: “Yeah I watch South Park too, pal. But would you accept, and eat, a sack of potatoes if the unknown delivery boy said they were from South Dakota?”
Me: “Hm, not sure. I guess they would have to be from Idaho.”
Guy (after opening the box): “Two are missing.”
Me: “Yeah, they were casualties if the delivery. I ate them on the way here, asshole.”
Guy: “In that case, I’ll definitely take them. Good day.”
