Dogs

I know it has been a while since my last post. My deepest and most sincere apologies go out the millions of readers who so willingly sacrifice their time to enjoy my blog.

While on delivery last Wednesday night I entered an apartment building. When I entered I saw a small dog (a pug to be exact) staring at me. His owner's door was open on the ground floor right inside of the entrance. I took note of it and continued up the stairs to the family two large cheese pizzas and a chicken parmigiana sub was addressed to. I knocked on the door a couple times then had a weird feeling someone was watching me. I turned around to look at the bottom of the stairs and there was the Pug, its two front feet on the bottom step, its back feet on the floor staring cross-eyed at me at the top of the stairs. Strange? I think so. They answered the door, we made the transaction and I proceeded down the stairs only to find the ugly little gremlin was still staring at me in the same doorway

Dogs always make for good stories when delivering pizzas. Sometimes they are happy to see me, jumping all over me while I try to balance hot pizzas in one hand a bag full of subs in the other. Or they get really pissed off when I get there, like the Akita (basically the meanest dog known to mankind) who would have wanted nothing better to rip his leash from the tree he was attached to and drive his mandibles into my skin, like a cheetah mauling an innocent antelope on the plains of Kenya.

Kids

Delivering pizza to kids always makes for a good story. Kids lose their little minds when the "pizza-man" comes to their house. I'm pretty sure the mailman or the UPS man aren't as revered as I, the "pizza-man."

 This past friday I delivered to a house and the lady opened the door but forgot her money. As I was awkwardly waiting in the doorway with hot pizza in my arms I see a little boy (maybe 5 or 6) walk into the hallway. I assumed it was her son. The look he gave me was priceless, his face lit up as if he saw Santa Claus delivering his gifts early Christmas morning. "Hey buddy," I said to him with a little smile as he ran and hid behind his mother. "Go sit at the table," the lady said to her son and the boy immediately replies "can I take my shirt off at the table?" I laughed out loud because first of all it seemed like a very bizarre question to ask, and second of all it sounded like he's asked this before. "No you can keep your shirt on at the table," she snapped back at the boy, obviously annoyed, but I thought this was freaking hilarious.

Once I pulled into a driveway and saw a bunch of kids jumping on a trampoline in their backyard. The minute I grabbed the pizzas out of the hot-bag in my backseat the kids froze and straightened up like meerkats on Meerkat Manor. Once the pizzas were in their view they freaked out, jumped off of the trampoline and tore through the yard into the house.

Often children call me "pizza-man", "pizza-boy", "pizza-guy", "pizza-delivery guy" but its ok. As long as these kids keep me smiling (compared to the rude adults I deal with) they can call me whatever they want.

Middle-Man

In the world of delivery pizza, the driver could be considered the "middle-man." We deliver the cooked food from the store to the consumer, kind of like a drug-runner. I once arrived at a house that was clearly inhabited by scummy people (I don't judge). I admit I was late, however we were busy and I drove there as fast as I could. "Its about time," said the fat woman who greeted me at the door with a sour look on her pock-marked face and a lit menthol ciggarette hanging from her lips. "I'm very sorry about the wait ma'am," I replied as politely as possible even though I would have rather punched her fat face in. She did not respond as I gave her the food and she gave me the money (without a tip may I add). The food was piping hot as I gave it to her and she still was not happy. She lived literally a mile away from the pizzeria and she was complaining about the food being late. I feel as if customers sacrifice a lot of things by getting food delivered to their homes. For example, we give a delivery charge and it is not required to tip your driver but it is highly recommended. If you complain about the price of the food and giving a tip (because I make under minimum wage like a waiter or waitress), or the wait don't complain to me. I didn't make the prices I am just the middle-man, it isn't my fault that I could not see the numbers on your mailbox or your front door and when I called five times to find your house you never picked up. If your food is cold it isn't my fault, I put everything in a hot bag and if you really wanted I could show you. I am just the middle-man, thats all.  If you are really that lazy not to get up off of your ass and drive 10 minutes to get your food don't friggin complain.

Confessions of a Pizza Delivery Driver

I have been delivering pizza at a local pizzeria for a couple of months now, and let me tell you, it is an interesting job to say the least. From old men wearing spandex-like sweatpants, flaunting their rock hard erection in its full glory, to the children who grab the food from you and shut the door in your face as if your one goal in life is to deliver pizza to these little turds. I love my job, it pays well and it is actually very easy, but there is just something about delivering food to people that just warrants almost uncivilized behavior from everyone. These are my stories, my opinions and my confessions, unscripted and most importantly unrated. I hope you will enjoy.