The blue Mercedes van had been circling the block for ten minutes, it was time to act. I jumped into my battered Taurus and slowly tailed it. It was all out war now, the Battle of the Last Mile. The enemy had to be stopped.
As owner of Chuck’s Choice Meats and Market, I had a corner on the local grocery delivery market. That was until Amazon decided it would be fun to deliver groceries from Whole Foods right to your door. Now Walmart was partnering with some delivery service to have its damn groceries delivered right to your home.
More drivers dropping off bags of crackers, and tubs of peanut butter. What the hell was the owner of a small, local market to do? Sabotage. Dirty tricks. It was the only way I could compete with the big boys.
And it was only going to get worse. Amazon was ordering 20,000 Mercedes vans for its fleet of independent drivers. They’ll be cruising our streets, loaded with all the things we just had to have delivered.
I couldn’t pay for one Mercedes van, and I didn’t have the clout of Walmart to partner with some big, national delivery chain to get my special of the day to people. But what I could do was draw the line. No more sitting idly by while these clowns delivered more packages into my nice, upscale subdivision.
I stayed behind the van, close enough to keep an eye on it, but not close enough to be noticed. There was no Amazon logo on the side. Interesting. They were stooping even lower, using undercover delivery vans now. I wasn’t falling for it.
The van slowed and I got a little closer. Now the damn thing was crawling, the driver looking for an address. I decided to make my move. I hit the gas and passed the van on the left, then in one smooth move I sliced right in front of it and boxed it in. I slapped the trusty Taurus in park, and raced to the driver’s side door of the Mercedes. I yanked on the handle, opened the door and gave the driver a piece of my mind.
“How dare you,” I yelled. “You think you can just cruise into any neighborhood you please and deliver packages? You got groceries in there? You’re taking money out of my pocket, and causing ruin to my business. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
The driver was a white-haired woman of at least seventy. She played dumb. “I…I beg your pardon. I’m looking for my daughter and son-in-law’s new house. Packages…what packages? I don’t have any groceries.”
“Oh, don’t pull that with me, sister,” I said. “I don’t buy it for a second.”
“Maybe you can help me, I’m looking for…”
“Help you?” I yelled, “Oh, I’ll help you all right. I’ll help you right out of this shiny new van. Let’s go,” I said, grabbing her by the shoulder.
“Ow, stop,” she said. “I think I’m lost. I just want to see my daughter and my grandchildren.”
“Oh sure,” I said. “Likely story. And I’m the Easter Bunny.”
“The Easter Bunny?”
The old gal was protesting now like she was actually someone’s grandma. But I knew better. She was a competitor. Just anther package deliverer looking to take money out of my pocket, and food off my table. I gave her a yank to get her out of the driver’s seat, but she was locked firmly in place in some kind of high-tech seat belt system.
“Good Lord,” I said, “is this how Amazon treats you? Straps you in with this…this harness? It’s inhumane. What else do they do to you people? No bathroom breaks?”
“Bathroom breaks?” she asked, playing the dumb card to the hilt. “Who are you?”
“I’m your worst nightmare, granny. That’s who I am. I’m a longtime local business owner who’s had enough and standing up for himself. You want a piece of me?”
“No…no…I just want to–“
“I know, I know, you just want to see your grandkids. What, so you can train them to deliver groceries too?”
I heard a commotion somewhere behind me. Kids yelling, even a squeal of delight.
“Nana? Is that you?” a boy asked. “Is this the new van?”
Then a girl said, “Why is that man touching you?”
“Help me,” the old gal said, playing along with the neighborhood kids.
“Nice try, sister,” I said, turning to see the kids.
“Don’t act like you know her,” I said.
A man appeared from the other side of the van and said, “Chuck? Is that you? From the market?”
I looked up to see a regular customer. The kids started lobbying him.
“Dad, tell him to let go of Nana.”
“What are you doing to my mother-in-law?” he asked.
I froze, and stopped shaking the old woman. “Your…your…”
“Mother in law,” he said. “What on earth are you doing? And why is your car blocking her van? Was there an accident?”
I quickly let go of her, and backed away from the van. The kids raced to her aid.
“He thinks I have packages,” she said. “And that I don’t get to go to the bathroom.”
I slowly backpedaled to the Taurus, looked at the group and said, “Did I mention that we’ve got a ton of specials this week? And as always, free, quick and courteous delivery.”
In the Battle of the Last Mile there was bound to be collateral damage.