Delivery story 270 Jaybee writes: I delivered for a DP franchise in southeastern Florida. Years back, we had this guy that always ordered toward the end of the night, and, was always passed out by the time we arrived. This was three or four times a week. (Maybe more but I didn't work every night.) He lived in one or two rooms in the corner of an otherwise huge house on the riverfront. I guess he was maybe the caretaker. Fat drunken slob. It always took many repeated beatings on his door, which wasn't near his room, to get him to answer. The last night I ever saw him I'd had enough already. (It was this night that I figured out where he slept; the other times I assumed he was passed out by his appearance when he made it to the door.) I showed up there and went through the usual routine. Banging on the door, walking around to the porch/deck area, rattling the glass doors, and sounding the horn on my truck. Nothing. I didn't have a phone back then, and didn't want to just leave yet, since, those times we did, we always ended up having to go back out when he called back. He did tip, though, but I can't remember how much. So, I started walking around the house with my Maglite pushing my way into the hedges that surrounded the house and looking in all the windows. I located him asleep on a bed in a tiny room at one corner with the lights on, TV on, and a cigarette actually burning a hole in his bedspread! The room was filled with the light haze of smoke. I pounded on the window frame with my Maglite. I shined it in his eyes when he opened them. As he came to, I went off on him: "Did you order a F--king pizza??" "Then you need to get your f---ing @ss to the door right now!" When he got there, I kept at it shouting in his face. "We're fed up with this s#!t every f---ing time!" I mean, I was just going off for probably a few minutes. I'm surprised no one called the cops. I even told him about the cigarette, and that I likely saved his sorry @ss. His attitude was, "Ah, bulls#!t!" and he told me he didn't want the pie anymore, and that he was never going to call us again. I turned away and yelled out, "Thank you for that. Please don't!" I was really livid with this guy. (I'm a lot more mellow now!) As I walked away he called out, "Wait a minute. How much is that, anyway?" He couldn't bear to see his beloved fatpie leave. So, after that, he still bought it, and still tipped me a buck or something, but I never did see him again. return to top