Well, sometimes, you are just thrown into situations where you have to figure out just who you are. Life is a series of choices like that, I sometimes think.
Today, UPS delivered a carefully packaged box of five Cardinal Tetras for our newly restored and rebuilt 39-gallon freshwater fish tank. At first, I didn’t see another box, a larger one, right next to it, I assumed it was the packaging of some kind, or perhaps I had ordered something I didn’t remember.
Our five Tetras were beautiful and in great shape; they had all been overnighted.
When I got the two boxes inside, I was stunned to realize the second and larger box was meant for someone named Ishmael in Virginia, not for us. There were about 75 to 100 fish in the box, all packaged in separate tightly fastened plastic bags full of water.
I didn’t order those fish and had no place to put them, and it is frigid up here. The fish had little chance of surviving more than a day or two outside of a tank. They were pretty exotic, some quite beautiful.
I had no idea what to do.
I spread the bags all over the dining room table, trying to figure out what happened. The right address was inside, but somehow, my address was switched for Ishmael’s, the sender had messed up.
Ishmael would be horrified to learn that these fish were killed or died of exposure and cold.
Maria was at lunch with the Good Witches, and I didn’t have a lot of time. I first thought there was no way to save these fish in the time I had, but I remembered a local hardware store just become a UPS drop off station.
Zinnia comes along now on trips into town, and she hopped eagerly into the car, perhaps sensing some tension. My mind was spinning and spinning.
The hardware store crew was baffled and wary, but I talked them into shipping the fish to the Virginia address. Okay, they said, but you will have to pay for it (I had no luck in trying to contact UPS and no time for more waiting on hold).
It was, they said, $15. Okay, no problem, I said. And then, thinking about it, I asked when the fish would arrive. Next Tuesday or Wednesday, they said. My heart flipped. The fish would never make it that long and in this cold. They’d be better off dying here and now.
They had to get there tomorrow; I’m sure they could make it that long. How much would that be?
Oh no, said Josh, you don’t want to do that. He looked it up. It was more than $150, he said, shaking his head. That’s crazy. I ran quickly through my options. Killing the fish, trying to give them away, trying to save them.
There were a lot of them, and they were exotic, beautiful, and expensive. Nobody where I live, would want these fish or know what to do with them. I didn’t.
I felt a bit of fear but a lot of certainty.
“I’ll pay the $150,” I blurted, “I couldn’t rest thinking of all those fish dying in that box and poor Ishmael opening it to see the slaughter.”
Two of the hardware clerks thought I was mad; one said: “you’ll have good karma tonight.”
“Your wife will kill you,” said one of the workers.
“Are you kidding?,” I said, my wife would beat me to death if I let all these fish die. I married well.” They seemed startled by this. I didn’t tell them she’s hosting a snail party this weekend.
Are you sure, asked the store manager? “That is an awful lot of money to spend on somebody else’s fish.” But I had no choice; it was that simple. I doubt I will get reimbursed, but either way I wouldn’t want to be the person who let those fish die.
We repackaged the box, and I handed over my credit card.
On the way home, I stopped at the restaurant where Maria was having lunch with her friends. I took her aside and explained what happened. I was a bit shaken about spending that much money to ship some fish to Virginia.
I apologized for interrupting them, something I never do.
She was not, of course, upset with me, her of all people.
She threw her arms around me and gave me a big hug. Just yesterday, she was telling me how father took her dog when she was very young and threw him out of the car window on a Long Island highway.
She was telling her friends that story when I came in and asked her if she thought I was insane to spend all that money in that way. I didn’t know that, but it explained why Mandy, one of her friends, took my hand and kissed it.
I came home rattled by the experience, wondering if I was a sap or a savior.
Maybe a bit of both. But I have no regrets, to be honest. It was the right decision for me, and yes, it is a little bit nuts. But sometimes I have to remember that being human is more important than being smart.
I
What a kind and generous man you are! God bless you.
I love your last comment that “being human is more important than being smart”!
Please expect a bit of a treat in the next few days….?
Ah Jon. You did good, XXX
You were a smart human to do this. I am sure the fish would have something to say as well. I would give you a big hug as well if I was there. I hope Ishmael realizes that you saved 150 lives coming to him. Perhaps the sender will reimburse you. Thank you for saving 150 lives today! Hope he will let you know if and when they arrive safely!
Thank you for caring for the fish. So many people in this world see them as disposable creatures because they’re small, often inexpensive, and don’t seem as intelligent as a cat or dog. But they are living beings, and I think they are more like us than we are able to perceive. As a fish lover who would be devastated if my shipment of fish didn’t arrive, or arrived dead, I thank you. For Ishmael and for the fish.
I am deeply touched by how you saved those beautiful exotic fish. I hope Ishmael appreciates it and gives you something towards your expenses.
Jon can you be reimbursed by UPS? SO glad you sent them. The poor fishees!
I think what you did was perfectly wonderful. Not a sap, more a savior. It’s good you were able to help. Those fish are thanking you! And so am I.
I think you did the only thing you could. It was the right thing to do. I hope you hear from Ishmael how it all turned out.
Oh, Jon – what an awesome kind deed. And I love your last statement – “being human is more important than being smart.” Thank you for what you did.
You did a wonderful thing! I am so glad you followed your heart. Thank you for proving goodness still exists! ❤️
Oh I hope Ishmael lets you know somehow if the fish make it okay. That is just the sort of gesture I would expect after following you for this past year pr so. I hope that UPS will reimburse you for their mistake, but if not, you will have a lot of good karma headed your way.
It would be fun to know what kind of aquarium Ishmael has that he wants that many fish…..
You did a good thing and hopefully the Virginia guy will know. But, as I was reading the post, the part about Maria’s father throwing her puppy out the car window? Wait, What? Why do men DO shit like that? What were the circumstances? I’m assuming the puppy was killed, and what an asshole.
you did the human thing, Jon. With love, and knowing it was the right thing. I hope the recipient of the fish will acknowledge (and hopefully reimburse) your kind deed. But even if he does not……you know in your heart and soul that you did the right thing, and that is enough
Susan M
Nothing fishy about this story. It could only happen to you. Grinning from ear to ear just thinking about the title of your next book, “Tales of a Country Hardware Store.” 🙂
Jon, you are a good-hearted man who in my eyes did the right thing. $150 is a lot of money but maybe not too high a price to pay for a clear conscience. Sleep well tonight!
Agree with Julie: thank you for proving goodness still exists!
it is said “you can tell the character of a person by how he/she treats animals””. You my friend are kind. No more needs to be said!!!
I would have done the same. I would want them to get the best chance to get to their destination alive. That’s was so kind.
As a fish keeper myself I applaud your decision to pay for the overnight shipping! I love my fish!
Am I the only person who saw the line about the puppy? I sincerely hope the fish make it and that was a good thing, but a puppy out the window on the highway? How is someone not traumatized about this?
She certainly remembers it…