Delivery story 97 Tasha writes: On New Year's Eve it snowed nearly three feet here in my little town. My pizza place is a franchise and it's the only one in town so we were swamped. I drive a little 1990 Mitsubishi Mirage, a piece of crap even though it gets decent gas mileage. It only stands about six inches off the ground. Driving around in weather like this was, of course, quite difficult in my car. This one guy lived in a remote location and ordered six pizzas. His driveway was literally a quarter of a mile or more of dirt road leading from the main road to the porch of his house. He came outside after I called him on my cell and waved for me so I would know which house it was. (There were five separate mobile homes in that area all off the main road.) Obviously, I couldn't get my car up his driveway so I parked, locked it, and literally hiked a quarter of a mile up to his house with six pizzas wading through three feet of snow. No tip. Of course. I really felt like stabbing him with the sharpe I kept on me. Instead, I thanked him politely, hiked back down to my car, turned it on, and screamed really loudly. I was not too worried that he heard me, because he was, after all, a quarter of a mile away. Next time I hear someone tell me that delivery driving isn't hard, I'm going to laugh. Really hard. I was driving around this winter, trying to get from one place to another, as usual. We'd received quite a bit of snow and it was night time, so the roads were difficult. Because of this I was driving well under the speed limit on this particular street. The street had a guardrail because it happens to rest against a mountain, and of course, on the other side of the mountain is a steep drop. I was only going about twenty miles per hour, attempting to see around the haze of snow around me, when I felt my car slipping on black ice. Only because I know how to handle a situation like that did I survive. The first thing that passed through my head, once I got my car onto safer asphalt, was "I nearly died delivering pizzas." I almost quit that night, as I recall. We happened to be a little slow one night, unusual for my store. This woman called and ordered a medium pepperoni pizza. No big deal. The pizza came out about seven minutes later and I zoomed over to her house. It was snowing, not too terribly hard but a fine dusting covered everything in the city, including the roads. I got that pizza to her house fifteen minutes after she ordered it. She was effusive in her joy at the promptness of the service and even later called the store to exclaim about how delicious the pizza was. No tip. It's times like this when I wonder if people are really that stupid, or if it's just me. Nah, probably me. High expectations. One night I got called to an apartment complex that's just trashy. It's the acknowledged poor-house in town. I delivered there and the lady was huge and had like five kids in the house. They were all crying because they were hungry and there was no food. This lady counted out twenty-five dollars in quarters to me to feed her kids for one night. No tip, but this time I was more frustrated at the woman. I really felt like saying, "Lady, why don't you take this money and go walk to the grocery store that's two blocks away? You could make it last all effing WEEK." Some people really irritate me. That same night I got called to a slightly nicer area of town and asked the lady how much change she wanted back. This was my usual response when people don't give me exact change; my way around the company's rule of not asking for a tip. It's innocuous enough, and usually people will say something like "Keep two dollars for yourself and give me the rest." The lady looked at me like I was a moron and said, "All of it. I have a family of seven and need all the change I can get." I gave her the change and actually broke company policy by suggesting to her that she not order pizza next time she was in a financial quandary. I said it in the most polite terms ever and she couldn't find a real reason to complain; it was phrased like kind advice rather than the snide remark it really was. She complained, and my boss blacklisted her. I'm glad my boss really likes me. The only time I ever got into a fight on the job was with a customer. I'm one of the few female drivers in my store and unlike the other females, I'm trained in self-defense, so if I happen to be the only driver in the store my boss feels confident sending me to the few "bad" areas of town. I got sent to this apartment complex that's mainly filled with drug dealers and degenerates. I didn't really think about it much, except that I was pretty sure I wouldn't get tipped, unless it happened to be one of the drug dealers because they usually have a lot of money. I get there and it's this Hispanic guy. I don't generally have a problem with Hispanics. A lot of my friends are Mexican and Puerto Rican, so it doesn't bother me. But this guy was looking at me in a way that really made me want to beat the culture out of him. Real "domineering," if you get my drift. I maintained my smile and demeanor and got the money from him and gave him his food and started to walk away when he grabbed my wrist. An instant "Uh-oh" alarm started going off, but I decided to see what was up before I just up and clocked the guy. He suggested to me that I go into his apartment and hang out with his buddies. I told him I couldn't, I was on the clock, and attempted to leave. His grip was still on my wrist. He then suggested that I go inside with him and perform certain acts that would make a prostitute blush. And still wouldn't let go of my wrist. Most of the time I'd just roll my eyes; the guy was drunk and probably wouldn't have made the same suggestion had be been sober. But at this point I was pretty peeved. I pushed him away from me and started walking towards my car, when I felt his hand on my shoulder. That's it, I thought. I whirled around and clocked the guy in the eye. He tried to hit me; I punched him again. The cycle repeated itself for a few times before he got the hint and went back inside with a few bruises and cuts from my class ring. I got back to the store and told my boss about it. Concerned, he called the guy and asked if he was alright. The guy acted all suspicious and said, "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't order pizza tonight." Turned out the guy was embarrassed that he got the crap beat out of him by a girl and didn't want to press charges, just so long as I never told anyone about it. My boss told him that because he was sexually harassing me, he couldn't press charges, and he had to worry about me filing suit. I didn't, because the whole situation tickled my funny bone so much that I forgave him. return to top