Stuart enjoyed collecting. His most recent passion involved the pursuit of craft beer. The secondary market for craft beer followed many previous trends; enthusiasts bought, sold, and traded with each other. Every so often a highly coveted brewery would announce the sale of special, limited release beers. Stuart needed to get his hands on these special releases. While previous pursuits simply required patience and a cold beverage, Stuart couldn’t get himself to undertake the 2,500-mile road trip.
The sale would start at 10am the next morning. Having never had the patience nor the insanity to wait in line for something, I decided that 8am would be a safe time to start queuing. When I arrived, the scene was utter chaos. The line went for blocks past the brewery. The “real” collectors arrived the evening before and camped out; a community sharing some of their favorite beers acquired from past releases. While in line, I met other hustlers that shared tales of camping out for the latest Jordan’s or Yeezy’s. They had sacrificed a night’s sleep to have the opportunity to double or triple their investment. Today’s mission was no different for them.
7 hours later, I carried a heavy, dilapidated box through the sea of people. Hungry, thirsty, and sun burnt, I had completed my task. I promptly shipped the 5 bottles across the country and I was compensated for my time.
John had been planning his proposal to his girlfriend for weeks now. While she knew that the time was ripe for marriage, she did not expect it would happen today, a Tuesday morning. With all coordination in place, John just needed to press play on his plan.
When I arrived at the suburban neighborhood, John seemed a bit flustered. His job description mentioned something about a marriage proposal, but it was quite vague, most of these write-ups are. John walked me through the plan.
The first delivery I made contained a box of chocolates. The delivery would not raise any red flags as John was unavailable to his girlfriend for the past few days. A box of chocolates to his love signified: “I’m sorry, I love you.” A little while later, I feigned forgetfulness and delivered another package to the house. This time, John sent her an album of memories: inside jokes, pictures, and quotes; the last page asking the ultimate question. In tears, shocked, and bewildered, his girlfriend called John.
By this time, I positioned myself strategically across the suburban lake to capture the moment from afar. To meet her prince, his girlfriend needed to walk outside and go behind the house. After, what felt like 30 minutes, she appeared before John. With rose peddles laid out and champagne nearby, John got down on one knee. Across the lake I received the “all clear,” she had said yes. I moved in closer and switched lenses to capture the moment in portrait. We finished taking photos and I hugged the couple wishing them Mazel Tov. My work was done here.