As a general rule, “food delivery didn’t turn up” makes for a statistic more than an interesting story, but this one really buttered my biscuits because, out of absolutely nowhere, my ADHD diagnosis got dragged into it. This story also mentions a well-known symptom of ADHD called hyperfixation, which is actually two things: flow state, which is where you’re doing something challenging that is interesting, and perseveration, which is where you focus on something to the exclusion of other things.

This story takes place not long after the anonymised popular worldwide illness was becoming unfashionable. Working from home and takeout were both common. Due to unfortunate circumstances that I won’t go into, my home office also contained my girlfriend’s desk, and therefore, often her phone when it was charging. I was working some odd hours because I live in the UK and the bulk of my team operated out of the Bay Area in the US. I had meetings with my coworkers between 5:00 and 6:00 pm, and my girlfriend’s work officially finished at 4:00 pm, so that window was when we usually timed dinner.

One day, we were doing our “Friday takeout” household tradition, born from my company’s £25-a-week support-your-local-eatery expense allowance. We commonly ordered from a company that sounds like somebody jammed the words “delivery” and “kangaroo” together and lost a few characters in the process. Yeah, “Kangarivery”, exactly. We could order from a range of eateries via Kangarivery, and we scheduled one well in advance (for 4:00 to 4:30 pm).

One of the great features of Kangarivery is that you can watch your delivery driver as they approach, so I was tracking the imminent Kangarivery delivery (or perhaps I should say “Kangariverlivery”).

I watched the delivery driver on the map. He stopped on the road outside my block of flats and waited there for a couple of minutes. Then, he buggered off. “That’s strange,” I thought.

“Did the doorbell ring and I didn’t hear it?” you may ask, and no, it didn’t. And I know this because some days I can barely concentrate for being pulled away from my desk all day due to constant doorbell-ringing deliveries (one of the few legitimate anti-WFH arguments).

I went outside to see if the driver was coming back. Then, I observed that the order had been cancelled. My girlfriend had come out to join me, looking equally quizzical, and I confirmed with her that she had not collected the food already when I wasn’t looking.

This was already low-key annoying, as is any process where somebody just kind of doesn’t follow the process and leaves you with work to do, but now we get to the part which really tiddles my weasel. My girlfriend had a missed call from her phone which was charging on her desk (next to my desk). She proceeded to inform me that the reason I didn’t hear it go off was because of my ADHD, and I must have been hyperfixating on my work or something.

Me: “What’s your ringtone set to?”

Girlfriend: *Silence*

Me: “I ask because if it’s at a low volume or sounds like a lorry reversing in the petrol station next door, that might explain why I didn’t notice it go off.”

Girlfriend: “I don’t know!”

I let it go because I didn’t want to fight with her, despite how infuriated I was with the fact that my ADHD was somehow to blame for the fact that the delivery driver was allergic to doorbells.

I confirmed that the order had been cancelled and I had still been charged for it, and I got in touch with support. The conversation was longer but boiled down to this.

Kangarivery Support: “The delivery driver called but could not get through.”

Me: “Why didn’t they ring the doorbell?”

Kangarivery Support: “They didn’t ring the doorbell?”

Me: “They did not.”

Kangarivery Support: “One moment, please…”

A moment passed.

Kangarivery Support: “We’ll have your order resent to you.”

And so it was that we eventually received our lukewarm order at around 6:15 pm in the evening, almost two hours after the scheduled delivery, because the rider was allergic to doorbells. The fact that somehow my ADHD got dragged into someone else’s inability to follow a simple process is the reason why, to this day, despite all our modern technology, I wander into the street awaiting my Kangarivery like some kind of caveman trying to tell time by the moon, and why this story still really apples my pears.

Several years ago, I was volunteering at a charity shop from a national cancer charity. When I started volunteering, it was late spring, around the end of April or May. I volunteered in the shop two days a week throughout the summer.

One beautiful July morning, I arrived at the shop just as the manager came in from the back room, carrying some sort of stand, which he started setting up in the area directly in front of the cash register. I watched, intrigued.

Me: “What’s that you’ve got there, [Manager]?”

Manager: “This… is the stand for the official [Cancer Charity] Christmas cards. They go on sale today.”

Me: “Christmas cards?”

Manager: “That’s right. Christmas cards. The head office has instructed us to put them on sale today.”

Me: “But… it’s July!”

[Manager] smiled and sighed. I could tell that he was really not happy about having to put Christmas cards on sale in July, but he clearly had no say in the matter.

Manager: “Yes, [My Name]. It is July. But the head office has decided that they should go on sale today, so they go on sale today.”

Clearly unhappy, he set about unboxing the Christmas cards and putting them into the display. He had even been sent a PHOTOGRAPH from the head office, showing which cards went where in the display. I decided to make myself useful and help him put everything out.

Over the next few weeks, the display of Christmas cards sat there untouched. Nobody even looked at them. All our customers were either looking for lightweight summer clothing (July had been particularly warm for Belfast this year), DVDs (which always sold like hotcakes), or books (which also tended to sell pretty quickly).

In September of that year, I left the shop because I’d been accepted onto a new full-time college course, and by the time my last day came around, we hadn’t sold a single card.

In October, I had a few days off for half-term, so I popped into the shop to see everyone and say hi. After chatting with the woman at the cash register for a few minutes, I went into the back room, where I found [Manager] helping a couple of women steam some clothes ready for putting out onto racks.

Me: “Hi, [Manager]!”

He looked over his shoulder.

Manager: “Oh, hi, [My Name]! Great to see you!”

We spent a couple of minutes chatting, and he introduced me to one of the two women, who had only just started volunteering. I asked how things were going in the shop, and then I dropped this line.

Me: “I see those Christmas cards are selling well!”

[Manager] rolled his eyes and laughed.

Manager: “Oh, stop it. We haven’t sold even one of those bloody things. And we won’t. At least not until after Halloween!”

I’ve often wondered about who exactly in the head office made the decision that Christmas cards “had” to go on sale in mid-July, and I’ve had to conclude that it was someone who’d never actually WORKED in a retail environment — or they had, but it was so many years ago that they’d forgotten what it was like.

A middle-aged woman enters the store.

Customer: “I want to print some photos on one of your machine things, but I’m not sure how to do it.”

She is gesturing toward the instant machines, and she is holding a digital camera in her hand.

Me: “You need to put the memory card in there, and the rest of the options appear automatically.”

Customer: “Can you show me how?”

 I take the camera and show her how to open the hatch at the bottom to take the memory card out. She immediately starts freaking out.

Customer: *Shouting* “You’ve ruined all of my photographs now! Opening it like that in the light! You should know better! They’re all gone!” 

I did try to explain, but she kept cutting me off. She finally stormed out of the shop amidst threats of legal action for ruining an entire holiday’s worth of photographs.

In 2013, I was a creative project manager working for a marketing agency on a massive account for one of the big supermarkets in the North. One particular client required an urgent photoshoot for staged food shots (cameos).

The shoot was on a Friday in a city an hour and a half away — and a s***ty drive — from the client’s HQ city.

Due to the client requiring around six shots (ideally you only want to be doing three or four at most for one day), I was there early to assist in setup and ensure that everything was running smoothly from a creative and flow perspective. This fell to me because the supermarket was “saving costs” and wouldn’t pay for an art director (from my agency).

I also found out the day before that the client wouldn’t be attending (but still needed to approve) because they were on a day’s holiday. Awesome!

We had multiple rigs running so that as one shot was on set, the next was prepped and ready to go.

With the client being on holiday, once the food stylist, photographer, and assistants had worked their magic, I would be required to have my art director (back at base), the consistency client (in a separate department), and then the actual client all prepped and ready for email approval/feedback straight away to make sure the day ran as smoothly as possible.

Between the sheer tenacity and willpower of the photographer, assistants, food stylist, my art director, and me, we managed to get four completed by about 5:00 pm, with the bigger, more technical shots done earlier. We’re talking big BBQ scenes with multiple products and accompaniments, etc. This is where things went pear-shaped — as if in reality, they weren’t already pear-shaped enough.

Upon requiring the final client approval of the fifth shot around 5:30 pm, the client went missing for two hours. I’d begun bypassing the consistency client as they’d gone home. (I knew the brand inside and out, anyway.)

The main client finally got back in touch, telling me they’d taken their kids someplace. Then, for the last shot, they went missing for another two or so hours. This time, I was told their phone battery had died.

So, we got that final approval at 9:00 pm. Plus an hour and a half drive back home on a Friday night. And, as you might have guessed, I wasn’t getting overtime.

Work-life balance anyone? Nope.

This was another nail in the coffin for me at that agency, as I’d had so many ridiculous photoshoots, requests, and situations on that account. I’d been told I should wear a stripey mask, called a thief for charging the clients standard rate for jobs (on a contractual rate card) — all sorts.

I even had burnout and three weeks off with stress for another scandalous job. I was a gibbering wreck. Only pride and an independent hypnotist got me back into that place.

I am troubleshooting a woman’s computer. After verifying her problems, I tell her the bad news and let her know what is wrong with her computer.

Customer: *Getting in my face* “You’re just trying to take my money! You think I’m stupid because I’m a woman!”

Me: “My fiancée is the regional tech manager for this whole company.”

Customer: “I want to speak to your supervisor!”

Me: “Let me just get her.” 

She lost it.