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I worked at Edible Arrangements for three years. It was great—they scheduled me on days I wanted to be scheduled, I got to drive a truck, I could basically do whatever I wanted as long as the Edible Arrangements got delivered.
At the end of the day, there was always a customer ready to cuss me out. We got a lot of orders from out of state, guys ordering arrangements for girls that they're stalking on the internet. I'd have to call them and be like, "Sorry dude, you don't have the right address; she might've moved or blocked you." It wasn't my responsibility to find some guy's long lost love.
A lot of guys would use Edible Arrangements to hit on girls. They'd write notes like, "Saw you at the club the other day, you told me where you worked…" They'd tell me to go into a Macy's and find a girl named Rachel, black hair, pale skin. It was a lot of trying to track down people with just vague descriptions. Sometimes they wouldn't include the name of the person they were delivering to, but it would say something like, "Her name is 'Beautiful,' call her 'Beautiful' when you get there." So I had to do that a lot.
We got a lot of orders from out of state, guys ordering arrangements for girls that they're stalking on the internet.
There was a guy who ordered two "I'm sorry" bouquets on the same day, one for each of his girlfriends. I guess they found out about each other and he game theory-ed it, decided to send them both and hope for the best. One of his girlfriends came in to pick up her bouquet in person—I thought about telling her that there was another order, but I kept it to myself. We had to keep a lot of secrets.
We once found out through a delivery that a girl was lying about going to college, and she actually was just working at a movie theatre. Her dad sent her bouquet—he was all proud of her and her academics—but when I delivered it, she told me that she'd been lying to him.
I delivered to a lot of depressing old folks' homes. I'd wander into these quiet lockup spaces, and employees would be like, "Don't let the old people into the elevators! Don't let them follow you out." All these elderly people were trying to escape—every time, I'd think about helping them sneak out.
One person died literally an hour or so before I showed up with a "get well soon" arrangement. It was delivered to a hospice, and the card had a Bible quote on it. I showed up with it, and the nurses looked around for a bit before realising that the person was already dead.
I just left it with the staff.
Another time, I was delivering to an elderly woman, and when I was putting the bouquet away, she sat down on the couch, then fell off and broke her shoulder. I had to call an ambulance and wait there with her. I even called her family to tell them what was going on. It was so sweet; she called me the next day to thank me.
That was freaky—delivering a posthumous Edible Arrangement. That presented a real moral dilemma.
I made a delivery once for a guy named Justin, and the card was written from his mother. When I got to his office, I asked for him, and his coworker was like, "Justin's out today… His mom just died." That was freaky—delivering a posthumous Edible Arrangement. That presented a real moral dilemma.
It wasn't always that grim, though. I once used an Edible Arrangement to sneak into a huge music festival. I looked up the headlining act, found the name of the band's lead singer, and wrote up a fake note for the bouquet. When I showed up with the massive tower of fruit, the security people led me backstage and I handed it right to the band members. I hung out there in VIP for a while and watched a bunch of acts.
We had this running joke that you could invade a country with Edible Arrangements. Just an army of people carrying Edible Arrangements—it's like the ultimate all-access pass.
The whole experience was crazy. Everyone is so thrilled to get these weird topiaries of fruit, and every day, I'd get a glimpse into someone else's life.
As told to Becky Hughes. This article originally appeared on MUNCHIES In November 2016.