A customer wrote “$50.00” on the line marked “Total.”
Next, she showed me.
She explained that, even though she had not filled in the line marked “Tip,”
The tip would be the difference between her bill and fifty dollars
As if I didn’t know how it worked.
As if I’ve never seen that before.
I delivered to the animal hospital.
Gotta love those cute puppies.
I walked in holding a hot bag that reeked of pizza,
I wore my full delivery professional uniform.
The woman at the front desk stared at me for so many seconds
Then said, “Can I help you?”
I wanted to say, “Yeah, I’m picking up my dog.”
And, “I’m paying for your fine services in pizza.”
But all I said was, “Did someone order pizza?”
The woman at the desk said, “Oh yeah. That was me.”
At the door of a customer
A girl approximately six years old,
Stared at me.
She tilted her head like a confused puppy.
Before the customer,
Her presumed father,
Finished filling out the credit card receipt,
The confused puppy girl said:
Who are you?
Me, I’m just the pizza man.
Then I laughed on the inside
At her ignorance.
We aren’t allowed to text while on the clock.
I don’t worry about my manager catching me though,
Just the police.
I wouldn’t text and drive.
I went to work unshaven,
My manager might not have said anything
But his boss was in the store.
The big boss, upper management.
So I got spoken to.
I was handed a disposable razor and pointed toward the bathroom.
Razor, water, no lubricants
And my sensitive skin.
Oh that razor burn.
Oh that burn.
I took a delivery that said,
“Leave pizza on picnic table,”
In the delivery remarks.
The order was paid for but not signed for
And not tipped.
So I wasn’t going to leave it without a signature.
Without a tip.
If you want to stiff me
Do it to my face.
I got to the address,
And saw the table
Next to the front door.
I called three times over the ten minutes
I knocked on the glass door
A few times too.
Then I left
With the pizza.
Back at the store I saw the customer’s number
As an incoming call on my phone.
I ignored it.
I got a delivery remark that said,
“Only you can prevent forest fires.”
I know the saying,
But I never figured out the delivery remark’s purpose.
Sidenote: I haven’t involved myself with a forest fire since that delivery remark.
One of my coworkers from the inside crew,
The pizza creating crew,
Made an extra extra extra small pizza.
A tiny pizza.
It had one pepperoni atop marinara and cheese with a small crust border.
Two-inch diameter, max.
I asked how she was going to cut it and she said she wasn’t.
She didn’t get my sarcasm.
I just hope she Instagrammed it before she ate it
In two tiny bites.
Everyone in the office—the pizza office—found out
About a blog I have
Called “every pizza i’ve ever delivered,”
Which is fine.
Except now I feel pressure
To censor my content of anything incriminating
I guess I can always hide
Behind the veil of
I delivered to a Bluetoother.
During our whole interaction
The Bluetoother never said a word to me.
But she never stopped talking either,
Saying things like,
“Shut up shut up, the pizza guy is here,”
Or, “Yeah, my mom ordered pizza,”
And, “Stop blabbering I’m getting money back from the pizza guy,”
Into her earpiece.
Into that piece of Bluetooth technology.
The Bluetoother didn’t tip.
I wondered if anyone was on the other end
Of that Bluetooth.
I wondered if it was a trick
To get out of tipping.
I delivered to the father
Of a future supervillian.
The future villain wasn’t jaded.
He was only two.
But I could see his future villianhood
In his eyebrows,
His thick, almost colliding,
Perfect V eyebrows.
The father tipped me five dollars
And the future supervillian
Like babies often do.