The task: Deliver an important set of documents to an office within the tallest building in New England and get a receipt.  Simple, right? Not so much!

As I approached Back Bay in my car, traffic was snarled because a movie was being filmed on location a few blocks away. No problem.  I found a parking spot on the street and filled the meter with every quarter I could lay my hands on in exchange for a 32 minute reprieve from being towed. I then walked six or seven blocks past the film crew and traffic jam to my destination, pausing for the photo above as I approached. I checked in at the security desk, offered my license as proof of ID, and identified the company I was visiting. Because my name cannot be found on an authorized visitor list, I am denied access to the building. We call up to the office but no one answers. I ask if the security people can deliver the document. Not allowed. I ask if the security people can run up to the office and ask someone to come down.  Not allowed.  Still no answer on the phone. I then do an internet search on my phone to find the personal phone number of the individual to whom the documents are to be delivered.  Success!  But not so fast.  You want a receipt?  “We will prepare one and send someone down right away.”  Fast forward 24 minutes; more like, wait for what seems an eternity getting progressively more irritated about being made to wait while my parking meter is ticking down to zero.  Finally, an assistant arrives to collect the documents and present me with a receipt. I am as cordial as my elevated blood pressure permits and then pivot for a quick jog back to my car.  Time had expired but I was spared the bright orange envelope under my windshield wiper that normally punctuates a story like this.