When Jane’s treasured ceramic was delivered in pieces, she resolved to identify the offender of her ruined deliveries. Unbeknownst to her, a gentle gesture from her daughter would impart a far more profound lesson than any retaliatory plan.
Relocating to a new abode was a dream realized for our family. The locality was splendid. The inhabitants were welcoming, the recreation areas were picturesque, and the educational institutions were excellent. All was perfect except for one recurring issue: our deliveries consistently arrived damaged.
One day, I discovered yet another compressed parcel at our doorstep. “Not this again!” I groaned, retrieving it. It was the third occurrence that week. Initially, it was a novel with creased pages. Subsequently, a culinary tool arrived dented. Now, I hoped the footwear I ordered for Lily was intact. Alas, the container was battered.
“Mom, why are our deliveries always in such bad shape?” Lily inquired, observing the wrecked box.
“I wish I knew, sweetheart. It’s exasperating,” I answered, irked.
Days later, the tipping point arrived. I had purchased an exquisite vase I had long desired. Upon its arrival, the box was in tatters. Opening it, the vase was found fragmented.
“This is the last straw,” I declared, infuriated. “I’m going to find out who’s responsible.”
That evening, I spoke with my husband, Mark. “Mark, it’s time we install a surveillance camera. Our deliveries are consistently compromised.”
“You’re absolutely right, Jane,” he concurred. “Let’s install it this weekend.”
We mounted the camera near our front door, hoping to identify the perpetrator.
The following week, I ordered a trivial item, merely a journal. Upon its arrival, the package was predictably squashed. I hastened to review the camera footage. The video astonished me.
“Mark, come quickly!” I summoned.
Mark hurried over. “What’s the matter?”
“Watch this,” I directed, pointing at the monitor.
The video captured the delivery boy, a young man, flinging the package onto our porch from a considerable distance. He paid no heed to its landing.
“That’s outrageous,” Mark remarked, dismayed. “We must act.”
“I’ve concocted a plan,” I stated, filled with a mix of rage and resolve.
Later, I disclosed my strategy to Mark and Lily. “I intend to set a trap to unforgettable teach him a lesson.”
“What sort of trap, Mom?” Lily queried, her curiosity piqued.
“A package labeled ‘Cold Water,’ but it will contain a device that sprays paint upon opening,” I elaborated.
“Isn’t that excessive, Mom?” Lily suggested, concerned. “Perhaps there’s a gentler approach.”
“No, Lily. He must learn not to mishandle people’s deliveries,” I insisted.
Mark nodded in agreement. “At times, a jolt is necessary.”
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