I love Fresh Direct. It’s one of those NY perks I like to rub in the face of my out-of-town friends.

But I must say, I was more amused than disturbed by the recent report ^[1] of a Fresh Direct delivery man making obscene phone calls to female customers. I’m sure for the women it was terrifying, but imagine the prank-call possibilities! I think it would go something like this…

Ring, ring.

“Hello?”

“I can see you. What are you eating? Some artisanal cheese? Perhaps layered over one of our own parbaked sourdough loaves? Organic, hormone-free beef with hand-cut fries? Or perhaps you’re eating blueberries – always fresh, always local, always joooooocy.”

Horrified, the woman looks down at her hand… the small, plump blue globules look so innocent… she clenches her fist in despair, looking out the window – how does he know?

The juice, like the fruity blue blood of the damned, runs down her fist, drips to the counter.

Ya think?