Delivery story 422 The Lifer writes: I've been in pizza for 12+ years now. I worked for a Papa John's in Bay City, MI for 5+ years. Here's a story of one of my last write-ups. (The street names have been changed to protect inno...i mean douchebags.) I'll start by saying this town has A LOT of converted homes into apartments. A usual uneventful night, I punched out a delivery for 815 N Blackson Apt 6, headed over there and sure enough there was no 815 N Blackson. The only building was labeled 817 and has 4 apartments. I walked off the porch and called the number. A woman answered the phone and said she didn't make the order but the phone number was correct. I figured it must be just a prank. I got back to the store and the manager was on the phone with the customer who ordered. After I told him the situation he informed me the customer watched me from his window near his driveway talking on my phone and then leaving. "Wtf? He couldn't give me a shout to find where he is?" He said I was in his driveway and the apartment is at the end by the porch. So, I headed back to the same building (817) and pulled into the driveway and walked to the back apartments. What do I find? 815 & 817 are the same house! "815" has apartments 5&6 in the back and "817" has apartments 1-4 up front. Makes sense, right? and again this isn't an apartment building--that would make sense. It's a home converted into apartments. So, this dumbf*ck gives a bad phone number and no word that his place has two addresses. I walked up to the porch and rang the buzzer for #6. The customer comes to the door and I politely said, "Sorry for the mix-up. I didn't know this house has two addresses," to which he replied, "Are you retarded?" I still politely said, "No. Also, the phone number you gave wasn't yours." He said, "Whatever...and how much?" I told him $19.83. He handed me a twenty and slammed the door in my face, so I "politely" took 17 cents out of my pocket and dropped it on his porch. A few days went by and the next time I worked, right away my (store) manager said he had to talk to me about something. The dumbf*ck a*hole from Blackson St had made an online complaint that I was the rudest driver he had ever seen and that he'll never order again because the driver threw their tip on his porch. I told the manager the whole story and sure enough, he doesn't care. "The customer can be as rude as they want and I have to just deal with it," he hold me as he handed me a write-up for the incident. I'm not a religious man but I hope karma blesses both the dumbf*ck and the anus manager with incurable, horrible & painful flesh/genital eating diseases. And don't eat Papa John's. It's disgusting.