7 Things I've Learned about People from Working as a Door-to-Door Courier

I've worked with hundreds of different people in a variety of different industries, including retail, manual work, factory work and 19 years in the stuffy corporate world.

Bearing all this in mind, I can tell you now, nothing exposes how people live and behave more than when you unexpectedly knock on their door at 10am on a Saturday and catch them in the middle of their lives.

Think about it, every time we leave the house, we decide how to look, how to act, how we want to be perceived. We're mentally prepared for interaction, armour on, ready for battle. Even the times when we pop to the local shop to buy milk in our comfort clothes, a hat might be used to hide our bed-head, a t-shirt stain will be hidden by a pullover, teeth might even be brushed. 

But catch someone unawares, in their own home, in their pyjamas with wild hair and no makeup and all pretence is removed.

Such is the life of a delivery driver. I've begun to see patterns in how people really live, act, move about and play. It's like a crash course in human behaviour that I want to share with you now. Here's a list of observations from the last six months in this job.

People laze around and don't have their shit together

You would not believe the number of people in their pyjamas in the afternoon. For every 8am jogger there's an equal and opposite person still in bed at lunchtime.

I get unprompted apologies from people as if they've been caught out. One woman said "I'm sorry I'm not dressed, I'm having a lazy Sunday," another leaned out of her bedroom window and explained at length she wasn't asleep at midday, merely watching television in the bedroom.

These small pieces of information, guiltily fed to me without prompt, reveal the odd shame we have about lazing around in our own homes. 

Owners buy dogs then shout at them to shut up

Dogs know their shit. Not in the literal sense when they smell their own excrement and eat it, but rather they're never wrong when it comes to guarding territory. 

I can step onto a driveway and the almost imperceptible crunch of shingle underfoot will set off an explosive bark from the dog indoors. It is spooky how accurate a dog's hearing is, they are never wrong. 

Dogs take their job very seriously. This is ironic as what always follows the bark is a "Shuuuut uuuuup" from the owner. Not thanks, not appreciation, but a scolding. 

Someone said, "We don't deserve dogs." I tend to agree. 

Front doors are often half-opened as homeowners use their legs as prison bars, snouts push their way through shins, gruff barks are sent my way.

Owners are always stressed with their dogs. It makes me wonder why they get one at all if they don't want an animal that barks.

Side note: I have to take a photo of each parcel I deliver at the allocated property. When I approach a house with a barking dog at the window or a majestic cat on the doorstep, I always hold up the package to capture the animal in the photo, knowing the homeowner will receive the image and be pleasantly surprised to see their pet. A small thing to amuse myself.

People are almost always polite

I have a theory that 99% of people are kind and decent. They are just like you and me. I've never bought into the misanthropic idea that hell is other people. I love other people. The occasional shithead does not mean everyone else is a shithead too, and this has proven true. Most people I meet are helpful, polite and considerate.

Delivery driving isn't glamorous. Everyone knows it's meagre pay and manual work. No one wants to be the arsehole punching down. 

In comparison, I've worked in managerial roles in the corporate world where those above you will happily punch down – It's seen as hard-nosed professionalism.

Side note: A person's social class and financial status have zero bearing as to whether they are agreeable or not. Rich people are not snobby, poor people are not crude. Shitheads come in all shapes and sizes. Stereotypes do not play out. 

People are thrown when a conversation goes out of autopilot

There's an accepted pattern of behaviour when receiving a package. The homeowner opens the door, sees the package and says something like "Oh, that's great thanks" and I respond with something similar and we end the conversation. 

If, for whatever reason, this comfortable exchange of verbal jabs is interrupted - such as needing a signature or having an address query - it jerks people out of autopilot. I can see the moment they step out of a hypnotic daze and engage their brains. It is only then I meet the real person answering the door.

I can have 100 autopilot encounters like this in a day, never really conversing with anyone. It's made me wonder how much of life we miss out on simply because we don't engage with the present moment. 

Shopping addiction is real

There are some houses I'll deliver to daily. They will receive two, three parcels a day from shopping channels, clothes shops, whatever. They spend hundreds a week on frivolous crap. 

Interestingly, there's no pattern to purchasing in terms of wealth. I deliver to huge mansions and tiny flats above noisy restaurant kitchens - if the resident of a compulsive shopper, I'll be there every round. There isn't even a demographic split, it seems shopaholism strikes whoever it pleases. Consumerism is a drug and all drugs have their addicts.

Men regularly complain their wife shops too much

Sorry if this seems sexist but I get it consistently.

"Can you stop her from buying things?"

"Oh, what's she bought now?"

"You again? She loves it mate!"

It's a well-worn theme. Men lean into this line of chat as it's a safe and agreed format of banter if perhaps a little old fashioned. It's always delivered as a joke, they're never actually annoyed. Still, this hammy humour mostly comes from men who I deliver to every day, so maybe they have a point. I always just laugh it off with a "Yeah, I know." I don't know, but I don't think they were seeking my advice anyway.

Homes are living works in progress

Every house is run down, messy, needs doing up, is having work done to it, has bags of rubbish outside, a gutter falling off, an overgrown lawn, whatever. Even the wonderful sprawling mansions I've visited have signs of imperfection, or should I say, signs of life; a hinge off a gate, chipped paintwork, toys all over the lawn, a mother leaning out the window shouting at her daughter for taking the car, a garage full of crap, a broken doorbell. 

There is no such thing as a perfect home, only projects and problems to be dealt with, only mess to be cleared, bins to be emptied, window sills to be painted. Everyone is battling against entropy, everyone is weighed down by household administration. Don't be too fussed your not living in a show home. No one is.

Final Thoughts

Ultimately, everyone is the same. You see them in their vulnerable human state, half-dressed, toasting bread, shouting at their dog and think "Oh yeah, I'm like that too."

Since the schools have gone back and lockdown has eased, I see family life play out identically, street by street, neighbourhood by neighbourhood. It oddly makes me fall in love with humanity. I love the ordinary, the humdrum, I love the small chats between family members, housemates, owners and their unruly pets.

We're all just muddling through. Joy is to be found in the ordinary - heck, it has to, we don't have any other option - find it in the shared moments of inconsequential life.

After all, we share way more similarities than Twitter or newspapers would have us believe. Someone votes red. Another votes blue. Ultimately it means nothing, you couldn't fit a Rizla paper between your values and your neighbours. It makes me wonder why we shout and argue so much.

It's been an illuminating time. Maybe everyone should do a stint as a delivery driver?