There is a woman who works here who recieved tons of boxes, and for some reason the are always mistakenly addressed to me. So when the sweet Fed Ex man brings them by, I have to take him down to her, and if she's not there I just sign for her and he drops them off. He happens to be incredibly hot to me and I think maybe a little sweet on me. Of course, every time I see him my hair is flying all over the place, my skin is destroyed, I reek of cigarettes and my outfits are the make-do outfits of a laundry crisis. There is no justice.