Delivery story 360 Pie in the Sky writes: I worked at a Pizza Hut in Nacogdoches, TX - small college city in east Texas. I was a local-yokel-country-bumpkin and didn't attend college. My manager loved it as we didn't have to work my schedule around classes, I didn't need to ask time off to study for exams and I never called in "drunk." It was pretty nice that I was the same age as the students in town, so they would usually tip me decently to help out with my "tuition." I never corrected anyone - hey, a gal's gotta eat, right? My boyfriend at the time - now my husband - was an officer in the city and insisted I call him when I had to go to one of the rough areas of town and if he wasn't on a call he'd go with me. Most of the time he wasn't on a call: the good parts of town didn't need the police much, the campus relied on the campus police and the bad parts of town just didn't call the police. My manager knew about it and said he didn't mind, although Carlos's shift sergeant didn't and probably would have been pretty annoyed. Most of the time Carlos stayed in his black-and-white across the street when I made a delivery in the bad parts of town. If Carlos knew the house or felt at all uneasy about it, he'd actually go up to the door with me. We'd always come up with stories about why I had a cop escorting me: He was my assigned body guard, he was going to book me right after that delivery or (my favorite) he was there to make sure I didn't mess up someone else who didn't pay for their pizza. These punks would always ask the same question: "Oh, why Po-Po gotta be here? Don't you trust me, baby?" It was pronounced more like: "Oh, why Po-Po gosta be her-rah? Don' ya truss ma, b'bay?" Needless to say, I was never bothered when I went out there. Carlos always kept a close eye on me. However, my one bad experience came in the good part of town. I had a delivery no more than 5 minutes from the shop. It was close to closing time and I decided to run it out. I'd already done my clean-up and recognized the address as a nice apartment complex close to us. I figured it'd be a quick in-and-out delivery without complications. I assumed it was a college kid, so I might even be in for a few bucks, too. Now, I'm a petite girl - 5'2 and no more than 100 or 105 soaking wet. I've never let anyone intimidate me - I guess I have a little female-Napoleonic complex. Besides, I may be little but I fight dirty. I always walk up to a door with my head high, but ready to go down fighting if I needed to. Let's face it fellow drivers: we're taken out of our comfort zone and put into uncertain situation dozens of times a day. Anything can happen and I don't want to be the victim of "anything." So, I always tried to put on me war face - albeit, trying to smile so I wouldn't seem snotty or impolite. Anyway, on this night I found the apartment without a problem and knocked on the door. I could tell there were several people there - I had 3 large pizzas in my bag - and after about 2 minutes the door opens. There were about six guys in there, all looking right at me when they opened the door. I recognized one of them from an earlier delivery and while the credit card slip was getting signed, I asked him if he'd just not gotten enough pizza for the night. He laughed and said he'd just not gotten enough of me. I chucked this off and handed over the pizzas. As I was walking away I glanced at the slip and saw that the one who'd signed it had put a big fat ZERO in the tip area. I was peeved, but too tired to do anything other than roll my eyes. I hear someone say, "Hey!" and I turned around. The sign-er was holding a five out toward me giving some story about how it was his dad's card and he couldn't put a tip one it...blah, blah, blah. I reached out for it with my right hand, ready to thank him profusely for a $5 tip, but before I could say anything, he grabbed my wrist and started trying to pull me in the door. I didn't know what to do, so I just started pulling away from him and telling him my manager would be worrying about me if I didn't get back right away - I had to close out my tickets for the night. But - again - I'm 5'2" and he was at least 6' and outweighed me by at least 100 pounds. And, he had a group of five guys to help him. I tried to scream, but something told me it would just make it worse if I did. So, with my left hand, I pulled my left hand - the hand in which I held my keys - and worked it so that one key was between each of my fingers - like a claw. I reared back and punched that punk right in his cheek! One of the smaller keys - the key to my mailbox at my home - punctured his cheek and he began bleeding all over the place. He let me go and and just stared at me in shock. So, I did what any self-respecting girl in my position would do. I smacked him across the face, kicked him in the groin and ran like hell back to my car. When I got back to the shop my manager saw my hands covered in blood and immediately called my boyfriend. I was too frightened to say anything right away - I just wanted to lock the doors and turn off the lights. I was scared to death that the other guys would come looking for me. My manager got a hold of Carlos and he came right over to make sure I was okay. I insisted he not file a report, but that the address be black-listed. I will admit that Carlos and my manager were both pretty impressed that I was able to hold my own. The next day Carlos came by to tell me about a call one of the other officers got. Apparently a kid went to the ER for stitches, saying that he and his friends got drunk and he got hit in the cheek with some keys. The nurses called it in as the story didn't add up at all, and it kept changing. So, the officer, knowing what had happened to me, went in to ask a few questions. By the end of their fumbling story, the officer leaned in and told them he knew what they'd done. I've not heard or seen any of those guys again. It's been about 10 years and Carlos is now my husband and we're out of Nacogdoches. I learned a lot of lessons during my time delivering pies - the most important of which is to tip and tip well. You always want to stay on the good side of your pizza person. Because if you take care of your pizza person, they will take care of you! return to top