It's not the delivery man's job to anticipate all of the emotional conditions in a household and become a fucking psychologist protecting every word he says when he is making a casual joke to cover up the fact that the man's porch was very dangerous and his stairs almost caused me to trip and eat shit and then I would have sued him and his whole family.... when the milk man comes to deliver your Chipotle, don't expect Mr. Rogers, Millennials. What the fuck are we, entertainment? Oh.... Daddy spent $12 on Chipotle and a working class slave is at the door to entertain us.
I go out of my way on every Dash to be kind and courteous and professional. But I'm sorry this ain't Chucky Cheese.
What I obviously should have done is gone ahead and taken the slip-and-fall and sue his ass and Door Dash while I'm at it.
Take that reality and comment on it bitches.