Seven Days Book #3｜Graduate Delivery Driver

When I was doing food delivery a few days ago, I received an order from a Wenqing coffee shop in Zhongshan District. The decoration inside is a modern combination of wood and cement. There is a faint fragrance of thread in the store. The whole space is intellectually beautiful, as if The air became noble. I was the only one wearing a safety helmet and a windproof jacket, and walked in swaggeringly. The delivery driver was the only incongruity in this space. I held my cell phone and told the clerk that I wanted to pick up the order. It turns out that the customer only ordered two cups of hand-brewed coffee. The average price of a cup of coffee is NT$250, plus the delivery fee of NT$50. It seems that the spending power of Taipei citizens cannot be underestimated. So the economy is in recession? No, there was no such thing, there was no recession, I was just poor. I left the coffee shop, carefully taking care of the two cups of coffee that I couldn't bear to buy, escorting them to the hands of my precious customers, and then I went to Xiaoqi to buy coffee with points discount to refresh myself. Sometimes I also wonder, what else can I do besides delivering food? What opportunities do I have in life? What opportunities have I missed? Sometimes I also imagine myself sitting in a Wenqing coffee shop where incense is lit, reading a book leisurely, spending an afternoon, not only drinking coffee, but also eating in the store, and packing a freshly baked pill when I leave. jam scones.

The scent of incense awakens memories. My body continues to wait for orders and run for delivery, but my originally idle mind suddenly stirs up waves and whirlpools. Every time I smell the scent of incense, I think of that room, that dim professor's office. , there is also the so-called opportunity to turn around. The professor's desk is next to the only window in the office. There is a library lamp and stacks of foreign books on the desk. Opposite the desk is a whole wall of bookcases. There is a painting of a naked man and a naked woman on the wall. Behind the desk is a There are short bookcases lined up. There are hot water bottles, tea bags and cup holders on the short bookcases, and then there is the incense stand. The smell of the incense should be the same as the incense in Wenqing Coffee Shop. The professor would smoke in his office. I remember when I first entered that room, I was very nervous because we only exchanged letters and asked politely about auditing classes and mentoring programs. That was the first time I met him. to himself. After entering the door, he motioned for me to sit on a small stool next to the desk. He took a puff of his cigarette and asked me, "Who are you?" At the moment, I just thought, how could someone ask a question like this? However, this question caught me off guard, because no one had ever asked me like this, and I had never even asked myself this question. After hurriedly responding to his name, he still pursued the question. : "I know your name, I mean - who are you? I don't know you, so you have to tell me, who you are."

I thought of him often after that, sometimes because of the smell of incense sticks, sometimes because of the library lamp, sometimes just because of a cup of English breakfast tea. The tone in which he asked me "Who am I" and the speed of his speech were so gentle and mysterious. He is an experienced thousand-year-old wizard. He knows what I want and knows my weaknesses. My professor and I used to have a very close relationship. Because the elective courses conflicted with the time I had to take, he specially changed the class time for me. He always called on me to answer questions in class. After class, he would send me a private message to see if I had class today. What I don’t understand. He was so kind, so good to me, but I didn’t know at the time that these “good things” would eventually turn into an incurable chronic disease. Every time I handed in a report, he would tell me, "You are the smartest student I have ever seen." "You know I have never given such high marks to a student." "You have great potential, you know? You must study for graduate school." So, study with me and you will gain a lot.” His speech was like that, always using affirmative sentences to confirm my doubts about myself, and then I finally mistakenly believed that I might be an academic material.

But who knows? I might be a food delivery guy. The tool for making money for delivery drivers is motorcycles. The so-called equipment upgrades include adding a rain cover to the delivery bag, a drink cup holder, and a small delivery bag that can be placed on the footrest. Since I started doing food delivery, I have been studying which area and time period can create the greatest benefits every day. I have joined the driver community and participated in discussion threads. I occasionally buy some food delivery equipment online. In fact, I have left the university and the graduate school for a long time. I only think of it occasionally. I think that is the way memory works. It comes uninvited. It even has the key to your room. After I entered graduate school as my professor expected, my life became increasingly directionless. The professor stopped praising me and even began to question my ability. During this period, I experienced a family revolution and an unhealthy love relationship. interactive. As I lay on the bed, I remembered the letter of recommendation that the professor had written for me, the tea bag he gave me, the master bedroom I cleaned for him, and the cigarettes I bought for him, and I later smoked the same ones he smoked. Cigarette, the brown filter tip makes the whole cigarette noble.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have written a letter of recommendation for you, and maybe I shouldn't have pushed you to go to graduate school." The professor left this sentence in the window that only had us, and I didn't respond. Then I dropped out of school, gave up on finishing graduate school, and was now doing food delivery. After delivering the meal that day, I passed by the professor's house. I parked my motorcycle downstairs. I put my mouth next to the coffee-colored filter. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the fire to start. Tears flowed down unconsciously, but I didn't feel like I was there. cry. The professor's home was on the third floor of the apartment. I stayed across the street from the apartment for a long time. I thought I wanted to see him again, but in fact I just hoped I could walk out of that room.

What opportunities do I have in life? Click to open delivery order. who I am? Fortunately, the next order is very close to home, so I will go home after delivery.