Flower Boy Delivery

First Day on the Job

The girl behind the white door with a crafty "4F" sign is speechless at the sight of him, but he can tell it's not in the same way a lot of girls are suddenly speechless around Bacon Park, small-town heartthrob, future supermodel and debonair actor.

"This isn't what I ordered," she tells him, her blank stare slowly transforming into a frown. How and why it's the wrong order, Bacon Park isn't sure. It's his first day on the job, and he was told to turn up at the office at 7 a.m. so he could fulfill his very first delivery. He was told to put on the crisp white button-down, slim fit jeans, pink bow tie, and Chucks that serve as their uniform and to make sure the teal Vespa he was assigned was clean and sparkly when he turned up.

Why he needs to observe exceptional tidiness and hygiene for this job is beyond him. A lot of delivery guys he sees do the complete opposite, not caring about how they look or how their tires are streaked with mud or how their motorcycles roar to life with an annoying rumble.

"We keep a certain level of aesthetic here at Flower Boy Delivery," Mr. Kim, the tiny balding marshmallow of a man also known as his employer, told him on his interview. "You're not just delivery boys; you're convenience specialists. You make life easier for your customers by bringing nearly everything they need to their doorstep. And as an added bonus, you're easy on the eyes. The company isn't just about delivering stuff," he went on to say. "It's about being attentive to our clients' every whim."

That sounded like an escort service to Bacon Park, if he was being honest. But he badly needed a job, and Mr. Kim paid good money, so he kept his opinion to himself.

"Bacon." Mr. Kim repeated his name on his first interview, giving him a once-over. "Why . . . Bacon?"

He smiled at his potential employer, his right lip curving up so it looked like a mischievous smirk instead. "It's not a very interesting story, really," he began, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, his dark bangs flopping over his almond eyes, almost tangling with his elaborate lashes. "My mom constantly craved bacon when she was pregnant with me. She loved bacon so much that that's the name she gave me when I was still in her belly. When I was born, I was a fat baby, so the name still seemed appropriate, and I guess it kind of stuck until I grew up."

Mr. Kim seemed satisfied enough with his explanation and pursed his lips in thought. "I see," he said politely. "I'm sure some of our lady clients will find that oddly charming, though you might want to find another name if you want to be taken seriously as a model."

The next day, he got a call from Mr. Kim's assistant, telling him he could start the following Monday, and Bacon was sure this job was going to be easy money. After all, how hard could delivering stuff be?

That said, he could've shown up earlier to work on his first day instead of arriving right on time with barely a minute to spare. He soon learned that this delivery boy business was no piece of cake. His first task was to pick up two orders from different places for the same customer, a certain Ms. Moon: plants and gardening materials from a flower shop and breakfast from a café.

The first order was already quite a challenge: three tiny pots of thorny cacti, one fragile-looking dish, a heavy bag of special soil, and gardening tools, which took up nearly the entire box on the back of his Vespa. After getting that sorted and picked up from the flower shop, he lost his way and couldn't find the coffee shop he was supposed to pick the food up from, and by the time he got there, he was already thirty minutes behind schedule. With his delivery items complete and properly placed in his Vespa, he tried his best to drive slowly, which he was quite successful at doing until he turned a corner the same time a kid running after his dog crossed the street. Bacon nearly lost his balance, the Vespa swerving and almost falling to the ground.