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Pizza Delivery Confessionals V2.0

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Originally posted 10-08-2005

OK, if you are in the know, you know that I got fired from my job as a bowling machinery technician for refusing to do unsafe work.

So, I had to come up with something fast, because I'm not the type to sit on my butt. And I did. I took a job at the local pizza joint running pies. Fortunately, I'm not using the Taurus for this. My little "pizza wagon" consists of a well-worn 1992 Chevrolet Beretta that has a 2.2L four-banger under the hood, and comes with a row-it-yourself gearbox. Plus, it's mostly blue. I'll toss up a pic later. Onto my first day on the job....

My first delivery.....to a well to do gated community, complete with entry guard. I have little patience for these type of things. So, somebody opened the gate with a remote, and I blazed the gate with 90 horsepower of fury. I make my delivery, collect my tip, and get back in the car. When I started it, I realized just how loud it was. My dad put one of these ricer exhausts on it, and I swear, it sounds like a Honda with a fart cannon. At least, that's when I realized it.

I get back to the exit, and Barney Fife is standing in the exit, anxiously awaiting me.

Barney: "You know what you just did was trespassing?"

Zorin: "That's funny. My boss, my customer, and your boss will probably not see it like that. In fact, they'll probably see this as you just trying to get it up because you had a bad day. We done here?"

My second delivery....right back to the same place.

Barney just looks up at me, and i look over at him.

Zorin: "What're the odds?!"

He simply opened the gate this time, no fuss no muss.

Things went pretty easily till a little later, when I got sent to a nasty section of town. I got stiffed on the tip, and it made me want to say some nasty things about the particular person I delivered to. Considering my wit has gotten me in trouble at least once or twice, I decided to let it ride. Got back, cashed out, and called it a day. Didn't do too bad, and more importantly, didn't get lost.


Place was jumping, and didn't get stiffed once. Using all 90 horsepower, and needing more. But the appearance of the car sure came in handy. I pulled up to one guy's place, and it looked to me like Uncle Escobar was deep in Colombian higher trading practices. But I could have cared less.

Uncle Escobar: "Jesus, look at that s**tbox. Here, man, take another dollar."

Zorin: "Sweet!"

Like I said, the Beretta was mostly blue....if you discount the primer and rust top, and parts of the car where the paint is peeling off like a bad sunburn.

I get back, and one of my coworkers is grilling me about the Beretta. He told me that I should use a nicer car, and then I told him that he should try driving around in a s**tbox....it seems to help tips.

And, now, for the main event.....

They sent me to a re-run, one where the other driver couldn't make the delivery. Just my luck, it happened to be a bunch of drunks at a hotel. They told us one room number, and happened to be in another. So, they called, screaming for us to deliver to the other room, saying they wanted the pizza free, all that jazz. So my boss sends me to defuse the situation. This was probably a bad idea on everyone's part.

Drunk dude: "I swear, you goddamn pizza boys couldn't pour piss out of a boot."

Zorin: "Yessir, it'll be $21.64 this evening. I'm terribly sorry about the mix up."

Drunk dude: "$21.64? You mean I have to pay for this pizza, and this pizza, and some no-good ******* to deliver it?"

Zorin: "Yeah....$21.64, and have some respect, or I'll kick your ass."

I got a thirty six cent tip from him......this job's gonna be fun, I tell ya what.


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Originally posted 10-22-2005 And tonight!!!! Some little punk-b***h asspipe tried to rob me. Actually three of them. All high school punks, dressed in black, and could be mistaken for Steven Sea

Originally posted 11-13-2005 Yes, it has been two weeks, and by and large, it has been pretty quiet. Up till last night. Last night was a fast night. One run. And it was a doozie. Over to Sprin

Originally posted 10-08-2005

Here's the pricing scenario....

Papa John's charges a buck for delivery, of which ninety cents comes my way. Then I get minimum wage, plus tips. Now, tips and mileage, I do not get taxed for, because, well, I don't report it.

So, you take a run, they give you a 2 dollar tip, and the end of the shift you are paid, in cash, 2.90. And the cycle goes on. Pretty easy money to sit on your ass, and listen to the radio.

Allow me to address something here. First off, you are paying for our product because you do not feel like cooking, yes? You'd rather do something else. By the same token, you'd also rather not go somewhere, it's much more convienient to have it brought to you, yes? This is where the gratuity, or tip comes in. Your tip is a means of thanking me for braving the traffic, and whatnot to bring to your door, a nice hot steamy pizza, or buffalo wings, or whatever the hell you wanted.

So, when I get someone who doesn't tip, and I can see that they can afford it, it pisses me off, because I take that as "**** you very much, I enjoyed being your slave master for the last 25 minutes." Now, if I go to some s**t-pit house that the paint is falling off of, the car's older than mine, the kids are in rags, you know, it's plain that they are just scraping by, I will actually refuse a tip. I'll tell them to keep it, they need it more than I do. But like this one woman I went to today, had a house with a 5 car garage, and a Benz sitting in the driveway with a delaer plate on it, she should just come out and say, "I'm too big a snob to properly thank you for your time and effort, so piss off."

I am by no means a rich man, but I believe in tipping, big time. The only way I won't tip is if I get completely piss-poor service. And you gotta work hard for me to think that, because I am fully aware of what stress can do to a person.

And as far as some people not looking at the car.....look, man. People are shallow nowadays. Simple as that. I guess that's why I kept a $4.88 tip average today on 9 runs, and the guy with the new Tiburon had to do 15 runs to equal what I made.


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Originally posted 10-09-2005

I ALMOST said this to this kid...

I go to this house, right? This little fat kid answers the door, and we do the deal.

He's all excited, and he's like "Yeah! We breakin' through with some pizza here..."

I nearly said it......

"Only thing I see breaking through here...your ass is about to break through the seat of those pants...."

God, I'm glad I can usually think before I speak.


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Originally posted 10-10-2005

Well, you all asked for confirmation, and Zorin has it. Third day on the job, and it happened.

I delivered the pie to either an orgy, or a gang-bang, couldn't really tell. But a decently cute blonde chick answered the door, wearing absolutely nuttin'. You should have heard the moaning coming from the living room....between that, and the strobe lights, all that was missing was that cheese-ball '70's porn music.

I swear, I am not making this up.

Naked Blonde: "Hi! We got hungry!"

Zorin: Actually speechless for a split second....well, more like taking in the scenery.

NB: "What is the bill?"

Zorin: "Airing that thang out? Uhhhh, $21.64."

NB: "Cool....I'd invite you in, but we're all naked."

Zorin: "Thoughtful..."

NB: "Well, thanks! Have a great night!"

Zorin: "You too......ride 'em cowboy!"

I walk back to the s**tbox, barely able to keep from cracking up out loud. To make it even better, she gave a four dollar tip.

Well, folks, unfortunately, I have another day off. I'll be going back on Wednesday, so, judging by the positive response to this, what I'm gonna do is update with the daily oddball thing, if you guys want. Tell ya what, some weird s**t always seems to happen to me. The funny thing is, I'm having fun just sharing the oddball s**t that goes down.


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Originally posted 10-13-2005

And now, tonight's confessional!

The worst possible thing happened tonight. I drove the Taurus tonight, partly because I didn't want to drive the s**theap, and partly because I didn't feel like shifting the s**theap's gears.

Fortunately, I didn't wreck the Taurus. No, instead I went to another apartment complex not known for tipping. I didn't know this, but I took the run.

Get this...a $37 order, two large pies, and two orders of Chicken Strips, for one person! So fine, I deliver the goods, steaming hot and fresh. The lady gives me a check, and naturally, stiffs me on the tip. I was pretty pissed about it, but I went about my day.

Got back to the store, and ran the check through the "Do-you-have-money" machine, and it said to decline the check. Goddamnit! Not only did she stiff me on the tip, but she gave me a s**t check! In the Taurus I hopped, and drove right back over to the apartment.


"Hello, ma'am, I think there's a slight issue with the check you gave me. Like, uh, it's no good. So, would you mind taking care of this with another form of payment?"

"Booooyyyy, that check's just fine!"

"Ma'am, the check is not fine....it's less than fine. As a matter of fact, I have a little dealie at the store that tells me that your bank account is flatter than old soda. So, I really need to get another form of payment."

"What the hell are you gonna do about it? Want me to puke it up?"

"You're barking up the wrong tree..."

"Wrong tree will be that way, then. That check is fine, and I ain't doing anything else about it."

"Look, toots....I'm trying to save you a s**tload of returned check fees here, so either work with me, or else."

"Oh, somebody getting upset about this?"

"Yeah! You're goddamned right I'm getting upset! You stiffed my company, and I'm still trying to save your ass, and your giving me s**t! Atop that, you screwed me out of the tip, too, which i could really care less about, but I'm still making the effort to be a nice guy here!"

She pulls out two twenties. "Here, take it, ************."

I grin big and wide. "Thank you, have a nice day!"

Some people, eh?

Here's the good news. The Taurus did twice the runs as the s**theap, and I made twice the money, and was nowhere near as uncomfortable. And used roughly the same amount of fuel.



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Originally posted 10-14-2005

Tonight, I got punked.....


First off, I want to ask. Why do I get all the nutty s**t? I digress....

I get a run to the north side of Tomball. No biggie, it's close, and in a reasonably low-income area, so don't expect a tip. Load and go.....we got fuel, fire......and pizza.

Get to the street, and I notice a Mr. Gatti's car coming in behind me. OK, slightly odd, but I can accept it. Wait, here's a Domino's guy. And a Pizza Hut.

Now what are the odds? All of us on the same street at the same time? This is too weird.

So, a '98 Taurus, a '97 S10, a '95 Probe, and a '89 Blazer all pull up to the same house at once. We all get out of our respective cars, and quizzically look at each other with an expression not unlike the old RCA dog. We all slowly walk up to the front door, the only sound in the background was four sets of key-in-ignition chimes. We get to the door.

I look over at the Gatti's guy. He looks over at me, and gives this weak little tap on the door. I roll my eyes, and look back over at him.

"Man, knock on the ******' door." I say, as the Domino's guy wildly beats an imaginary door behind me. He knocks a little more to everyone's satisfaction. Peer pressure can be a b***h.

The woman opens the door, and sees four delivery guys, and four cars in the road. Here's the RCA dog look again.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asks, completely lost.

I look at the other guys. "Aw, s**t. Man, we got punked! Somebody's playing on the phone again!"

The woman still looks confused. "I didn't order any of this."

The Pizza Hut guy finally pipes up. "No biggie. We all just got a free dinner this evening. Thanks!" He turns and heads for his car, and we follow suit. I'm looking around, in recon mode looking for the little bastard kid to be hiding in the bushes with a video camera so I could splatter him with hot pizza, but no such luck.

The interesting thing to note here is that we all have the same delivery time. So, as far as that woman is concerned, there's no time benefit to anyone! We were all there at the same time!

Another mildly amusing thing happened also. I delivered two large to the local nursing home. As I was on my way out the front door, I heard the following:

"Mildred! The pizza's here! Get the beer!"

I can only imagine a bunch of old women sitting around, eating pizza and drinking beer, and playing cards, and realizing that us men had it right all along.


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Originally posted 10-19-2005

Well, things have been slacking off in the odd-ball department at the pizza joint, so Zorin being Zorin, I decided to shake s**t up a little. Boring is bad. Boring is no fun.

So, today, I take the s**theap to work. I didn't realize that the Astros were playing the game of their life, and that the entire city would want pizza. So, deliveries were racking up, and the 2.2L couldn't keep up. Well, it tried. It tried very, very hard. I ran the piss out of the little car to the point of gathering the attention of three cops. They all were giving me the dirty eye, so I had to think fast. What to do? The s**theap is pretty hard to miss, and I needed a fast solution, and I also knew that the cops would be watching out for me.

So, in a brilliant moment of clarity, I realized what must be done. I'll do an old fashioned car swap! They do it in the movies, must work! I picked up the phone and called my roomate.

"John! It's Tim! Listen, I got a s**tload of mounties on my ass. Bring the Taurus to the shop now!" I dropped the phone in the passenger seat, and made the delivery.

Right when I pulled back up to the store, the Taurus was rolling up. I grabbed the car top sign from the roof of the s**theap, and ran inside. I don't use a car-top on the Taurus, as it will not work because the roof is so curved. I have a window flag for it, and I rolled it up in the rear window, and picked up the next set of pies.

John looked confused.

"Look, John, just get in the car, and get the **** out of town with it. All the fuzz-balls on the south side are watching for it, so just hop on the 2920, and head west. Thanks, you're a bud!"

I hopped in the Taurus, and screamed out. This worked better than I figured, because as it so happens, there's a Domino's guy that has a black Gen3. Poor kid got a ticket tonight.

Nothing like mixing it up, right?


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Originally posted 10-22-2005

And tonight!!!!

Some little punk-b***h asspipe tried to rob me. Actually three of them. All high school punks, dressed in black, and could be mistaken for Steven Seagal wannabe-wannabes.

So, it's a nice night, yes? EATC reported 67 degrees outside, the Taurus was looking sharp due to an impromptu repair session at Rudedog's Palace of Used Taurus Parts, and Mr M.V. Powah's house of sqeaky clean body panels. Yesterday, my car lost it's saxophone shaped snorkus, and gained a new outer tie rod end to replace one that was sqeaking loudly enough to make dogs howl, and Mark actually, to everyone's amazement, got most of the damn tree sap off the hood.

Nevertheless.....I go out to Country Meadows, not a terrible neighborhood, off of Zion Road. Amusingly enough, there's a highschool right at the front of the neighborhood, presumably where the little s**ts go to learn such atrocious acts of random stupidity.

I go to the house, and I notice a white G2 SHO with a bunch of kids around it. Nothing big, I do my thing. I get back in the car, and back out of the driveway, and pull to a stop at the stop sign. I'm completing my paperwork at the stop sign, and this kid runs up to the window. I notice he has a blade. I'm not very thrilled.


"You want what, kid?"


"All right, all right......I'm just going to reach over for the door handle, nice and......EASY!"

I grabbed him by the collar, and floored the Taurus harder than I have ever floored it in my life. As I cut left, the Taurus burned rubber to the degree that I could smell the pungeant odor of frying Continentals. The kid's ( I say kid, he was probably 19 or 20) feet went right out from under him, and he dropped the knife. He squealed like a little b***h when the Duratec hit 4000 rpm, and the car really started gaining speed.



I dragged him for a good three blocks at 50 or so, then I slowed down to about 20 and let his ass go. I know he lived, because I watched him roll and get back up and walk back the other way.

Betcha that he'll think twice about jacking a pizza guy. The great thing about Texas is that when someone tries to rob you, you can do what you see fit. Like he assaulted me with a deadly weapon, the knife. I can do the same, except I get to use my car.

Don't try to jack Zorin......it's not a winning proposition.


P.S. He'd have been pissed anyway....I had a check for $15, no pizza, and some singles. Dumbass.

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Originally posted 10-23-2005

Tonight's on the job report....

Nothing happened. Nope, nothing odd, unless......you count the two following factoids.

Fun fact number 1. I made $60 in tips on nine runs, and put 70 miles on my car. Dig it.

Fun fact number 2. It only took 3.2 gallons of fuel to fill the tank back up, meaning I got 21.875 MPG whilst zooming around. This came to a total fuel cost of $10.09.

I have found that it is best to fill the tank after every shift. This way, the car always has a full tank of fuel, plus I get to see how hard I am driving it via fuel economy.

So, 21.875 MPG, and a $6.66 tip average. Who could b***h?


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Originally posted 10-30-2005

Ring a ding!

And now, by the request of SFontain, more pizza delivery confessionals! I was going to let the thread die out, however, there seems to be too much interest, so.....without further ado!

It's been pretty much on the down-low lately, also I haven't been there much due to the trip that Rudedog and I took, but the more things change, the more they stay the same. They must have been saving it for me.

Anyway, things were heating up fast before I even made it to work. I'm trying to turn left into the parking lot, and of course, I'm wearing my dashing pizza uniform. Well, I'm waiting for traffic to clear, and there's a punkfaggot in a 4WD Chevy pickup behind me. Traffic is still zooming by, and he just leans on the horn. I look in my sideview mirror, and see him waving for me to go. At the first opportunity, I floor the accelerator, and lay rubber into the parking lot, and he follows right behind me. I skid to a stop, and jump out of the Taurus. I take off my Papa John's hat, and walk around the front of my car, heading for his truck. He steps out.

"Hey, man, I thought you were just sitting there."

"You got a problem, ************?"

"Yeah, I got a problem....you're just sitting there."

"Dude, I was waiting for traffic to clear. Then you start honking like a little b***h. Never mind the fact that I am sitting there with my blinker on. Like I just forgot where I was going. I'm trying to be a safe driver here....YOU GOT A GODDAMNED PROBLEM WITH IT?"

He starts blushing, because I'm admittedly riding him hard. I also notice my boss making his way, rather rapidly, for the front door. About this time, his wife butts in, and starts telling me what a piece of s**t I am. I take the Samuel L Jackson approach with her.

"I don't remember asking you a goddamned thing!"

She shut up fast. My boss came running up, and walked me back around the side of the building. After a quick explanation, the boss was on my side, and the guy was gone. I figured that it was good to get the nightly nuisance out of the way quickly.

How wrong I was.

It was about the second or third trip out, I took a pie to this middle aged woman. She thought she'd be slick....

"HI, ma'am. How are you this evening? Careful there, it's still rather toasty on the bottom, and it's $15.16 this evening."

She hands me a twenty, five ones, and some loose change that I don't bother to count. "Just give me ten back."

"All righty, then ma'am, there you are."

"Hahaha, men just don't get it." This comment enraged me, as I knew what she did.

"This may be true, however I can add, and you can surely seem to subtract."

She looked at me funny. I smiled, and turned around and walked back to my car. I got in and drove off. She tried an old trick where you give the pizza guy a big wad of cash, and he just thinks right off the bat that there is a good tip in there, when in actuality, you got stiffed. And then she had the nerve to gloat. Old bag.

My last trip gave me a chance to blow off some steam at someone else's expense, which is always fulfilling. I got a run over to Rudel Road, and that is a seedy apartment complex not known for tipping. I deliver two pies, and some buffalo wings to two stoners. Yeah, let's see....my tip just went up in smoke. They open the door, and it was so thick that I was instantly clam-baked. Of course, that also loosened me up for the next little surprise to come out of me....

"Hey, dude.....$29.50 for the goods!"

"Here you go, man. $30 flat, what do you think about that?"

"I'm thinking carryout....."

I walk off, the guy has an odd look on his face, sort of like the one when you think you got zinged, but you're just not sure. I got back in the car, and died laughing.

I've made a new realization with this job. I don't give a s**t anymore. I'm not in this for a career, I won't be using this for anything, this is simply my form of unemployment.....so if they fire me, I could care less. If someone pisses me off, maybe I'll just have a wee bit more fun than I am already having.

Y'all ready for it to get good? NO MORE MISTER NICE GUY!!!!!


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Originally posted 10-31-2005

Well, are all of you ready for this?

Since I decided that I was really going to turn up the juice, and see what shakes loose, and I made this decision on Devil's Night. How handy is it that today is Halloween? The biggest pizza delivery day of the year! So, let's leave it to Zorin tonight to do his own brand of trick-or-treating, mostly just treating asspipe customers with some choice things to say.

Of course, I have never worked a Halloween as a pizza delivery driver, so maybe there will be a trick or two.....will a 'Tec do a good lawn job for the really unruly customer?

I also found this killer website. www.tipthepizzaguy.com

Totally awesome site, hits the nail on the head for a lot of the crap I put up with.

I will say this....if nothing happens tonight....I will be absolutely shocked, amazed, aghast, and freaked out.

So....in a couple of hours....let the games begin!!!!


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Originally posted 11-01-2005

OK, I made you all wait, and for this, I be sorry....but let's commence, shall we?

All Hallows Eve...supposed to be a great night for trick or treating. Well, it was a hell of a night, all right. Remember the pics I promised? Well, here's the first one.

This was taken at 3:55 pm, as I was leaving my house.


Now, rain doesn not scare me. It only means more money. But, on my first trip out, have a look at this.....note the time on the clock.


This was taken in the center of Tomball, while waiting for a red light, which you can't see. But anyway. On to the good stuff.

First run, pouring down like cats and dogs, 40 mile per hour or so winds, and marble sized hail, which netted me a cracked windshield. The guy who I delivered to was cool as hell, and tipped big....ten dollar big. We can always tell who's appreciative.

Next run. A big order to a rich neighborhood called Powder Mill. I loved it. Six dollar tip, and a s**tload of high-school girls all dressed like Brintney and Christina....I love this job.

Next run....another biggie to a different rich neighborhood. But, in this one, folks have a force field around their heads. Like the high-school kids on bicycles dressed like ghosts trying to scare cars going by. I schooled the little f**kers, all right. Been raining all night, so I took the liberty of giving them a jet-spray courtesy of my left front tire. So handy the way Tauruses shoot the water to the side. Trick or treat, punks!

And, it always happens. The no-tip run. I go to this guy's house, right? It's another big order, having a Halloween Party. $60 worth of pizza is heavy, and he imposed a time limit to boot. I make it there, on time, and pizza still steaming hot. Here's how it went down:

Zorin: "How goes it tonight, sir? Gotcha covered here, your total is $58.88 this evening, please be careful, that's still pretty toasty on the bottom."

He hands me a check, already written, for the exact amount. "Man, the weather's really s**tty tonight!"

I look at the check. "Yeah, well, at least you didn't have to get out in, right?

"Hey, I paid the delivery fee."

"Well, you sure did your part, then didn't you? Take care."


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Originally posted 11-13-2005

Yes, it has been two weeks, and by and large, it has been pretty quiet.

Up till last night.

Last night was a fast night. One run. And it was a doozie. Over to Spring Hill Apartments on Brown Road, not a far trip, and not a bad apartment complex. So, I scoot out in the Taurus, hot steamy pie in bag, elapsed time on order, eight minutes, twenty four seconds. Killer time.

It's a six minute trip to Brown Road. Knock on the door, less than twenty minutes have elapsed since the customer phoned it in. Awesome response time for 6 pm on a Saturday night.

Walk up the stairs, knockety-knock. He opens the door, and I hand him a pie that is still issuing steam from the front of the box, and is emitting a mouth watering scent. You can't ask for more.....or can you? It was a credit card order, so I had a slip for him to sign.

"Sir, if you wouldn't mind, I have a little slip here that I need you to sign."

"No problem. Got a pen?"

"No sir, sorry, your pizza came out of the oven, and I grabbed it and ran out the door."

He gets this unholy look of inconvienence on his face, and his mood turns completely sour.

Rolling his eyes..."Jesus Christ. Hang on a minute, ********." and slams the door in my face.

I'm thinking to myself..."Man, there wasn't a clear connection here. Did he just calll me ********?"

After about five minutes, he opens the door, and tosses the slip at me. "Here you go, *******!" The credit card slip has a signature, and a massive 0 with a line crossed through it that looked like it had been gone over a couple of times. I look at the slip.

Looking back up at him, I shake my head. "You tiny little infantessimal worm-like *****. I got your pie here in under 20 minutes, still steaming, on a Saturday night, and you got the brass ones to pull this s**t? I reckon I'll just take the tip right outta your ass."

He sees me drop the hot bag and the credit card slip, and sees my right hand ball up. He notices this, and slams the door and I hear both locks engage. This is when i start shouting.


I jump back in my car, and haul ass back to the pizza store. I know what must happen at this point. I get there, and pull into the driver's area at about 30, and slide to a stop. I get out, and walk around to the right rear door, and roll the window down, and yank the flag off of the window. I proceed inside.

"Keith! (My boss) You can take this job, and shove it. For $5.15 an hour, nobody gets away with the s**t that this guy over on Brown Road just pulled."


I told him the story, and as I was, I noticed one of the phone girls pleading with a customer on the phone. I pretty much figured it was him. I turned in my s**t, and left. About two hours later, I'm at the car wash vacuuming my car, and my phone starts ringing. It's my boss, begging me to come back to work, my delivery per hour figure is amongst the highest in the store, and my boss had told the customer that not only would we not deliver to him anymore, but we wouldn't even seel him pizza anymore. He is no longer allowed to do business with our store.

So I went back today, and faced an employee issue. Tim Baucom, another driver, who has been there through three managers was calling for my dismissal. I didn't think highly of this.

"Tim, why don't you step outside with me. Keith, you come too." I said.

Keith looks at Baucom. "Aw, s**t."

We get outside, and I go to work on Baucom.

"Look, you old fart, nobody here likes you, you **** with all the new people, and yesterday when I was in a tizz, for what I may add was an excellent reason, you and your piece of squueze stood there in the parking lot and pointed and laughed like I was the main attraction for the evening. I've been nice enough to let a lot of this s**t go, but I'm gonna tell ya like it is today. You're an ******* ****, and if you pull any more s**t with me, I'll throw you a beating so hard, and so long that you'll think it's a career. s**t, I'll give you a blood transfusion to keep you alive if I gotta, just to continue whipping your ass. You get me?"

TB "Are you threatening me?"


Keith stood there and just looked, well, amused, because he doesn't care for Tim Baucom either.

TB "Well, had I known..."

"Just shut up. Here's your options. Either get some ******' ass manners, or it'll be your ass. If you think that I have a problem losing this job, or going to jail over whipping the s**t out of you, you have thought wrong, my friend."

TB "Well, damn. Had I known that I pissed you off so bad...."

"Well, now you know. Go along, and we'll get along. And Tim....you **** with me, and it'll be a bad day." I walked inside to get my run assignment, and Tim Baucom simply left for the day.

Results.....the old-fashioned way.


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Originally posted 11-19-2005

I'm sure that you have all anxiously awaited my return from the land of government conspiracies to report back about the pizza job.

Tell me I'm a trooper.

Over 700 miles in 48 hours, plus go to deliver the pies.

So, I go in to work today, and this time, I swear, I have heard it all. Check this.

Third run of the day. Go to a well-to-do neighborhood in Three Lakes Village, houses are roughly 175K or so. I whip up, and scoot to the door. It goes like so....

"Hi! Gonna be $15.14 this evening."

"Here you go." (Hands over a twenty) "I'll need change for that."

"Not a problem, ma'am, got your change right here."

"I hate to tell you this, but I can't tip you because we are pinching pennies. Sorry."

My disposition goes from nice, to not so nice.

"Allow me to give you a tip then, ma'am. How's about instead of ordering pizza, you take your ass over to H-E-B, and buy some goddamned groceries, hmmm?"

I turned around and walked off.

Next sour experience.

Got sent out to Hufsmith Cemetary. A little out of range, but not a big deal. Except...for the railroad tracks. Now, I had never personally seen a train on these particular tracks, but that changed tonight.

I pulled up, and one was stopped, blocking the road. OK, he'll start moving again in a minute. Well, another train pulled up alongside, and he stopped too. So we sat.

For an hour.

Fortunately, I had called both my customer ("Oh, you're stuck at that ******' train? No biggie.") and my boss ("What the **** do you mean you are caught at a railroad crossing?")

The good part is, the customer finally got his pie, and still tipped me a fiver, but the bad part was that I lost a lot of runs, sitting there cooling my heels.

In other news, we have a new driver, and he's a doofus. He told me that his '05 PT Cruiser has a chip and a V-8, and that he'd whoop my Taurus. I told him that if I wanted any s**t outta him, I'd squeeze his head.

And, one of our other drivers got a ticket for blasting a stop sign. He said it was a real Barney Fife that gave it to him. I told him to take a good look around. We are in a town full of Barney Fifes.


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Originally posted 11-24-2005

Well, we have a red letter entry tonight!

Totally a chart-topper. And just in time for the holiday season. Here it be:

For the first time in a long time, I had a triple. First stop, Canyon Gate. You remember Canyon Gate. That was the delivery where I had the problem with the Barney Fife security guard on my first day. So, moving right along, I go to Canyon Gate. When I get there, we have a massive line of cars at the security gate. So many cars that I cannot even make the left into the neighborhood. So I sit at the stop sign.

People start blowing their horns. What a wreck. So, i decide to pull into the esplanade, and the Honda Passport that has sneaked up the wrong side of the road nearly hits me, and blows its horn at me. He got an upraised middle finger, and few sundry comments about his mother. Turns out, he lives there. Big whoop. Nothing happened, he goes on in. That's because there is two lanes. One with an E-Z pass kind of thing for residents, and the other with Barney Fife, and a cordless phone.

So, the first guy comes to the window, and explains that a lot of residents have been complaining about unwanted people in the subdivision. Fine. He was perfectly polite, cordial, the whole bit. It was the second guy that got the s**t stirred up. He walks up, and takes one look at me.

"Oh, another pizza guy."

"Yeah, dude. I'm losing money here."

"Look, boy, I don't care if you're with the pope, you're gonna ******' sit here and wait."

"Hey, what's your name?!?"

He walked off, and didn't respond. I leaned back thinking, "Oh, you didn't just pull that s**t with me." I finally, after 25 minutes of waiting, pull up to the guard shack. The guard starts writing down my plate number, and asks me if I am a resident. I point to the stack of hot bags.

"Yeah, I pay for the mansion with all the tips."

"Who are you going to see?"

I give her the name, address, and phone number, and they do not answer the phone. The security guard tells me that she will not let me in. I told her that she needs to call again, and until she does, I was going to roll up my windows, and button the car up like Citibank after 4 pm. She sighed, and called them back, and got an answer. She told them that Papa John's was there, and that she needed to know if it was all right to let us in. She had them on speaker, and this is what I heard.

"What the hell's the matter with you? Don't hold up the pizza guy!"

I chuckled and restarted the engine. I went in and made my delivery, and told my customer that I would be talking to my superiors about cutting the neighborhood out of our delivery area, as we cannot spend 25 minutes waiting to get in. As it was, I had two other people's orders, and they were no doubt getting upset. The lady was massively pissed off, and vowed to iron out the security company. I went back toward the front, and figured that I stop back by the front, and get that asspipe's information, and contend with him when I had more time.

So I stop back at the guard shack. I get out of my car, and walk up to the guy.

"Hey, f**knuts! I want your name, your number, your affiliations with this neighborhood, all the information you got, I'm gonna bust your balls down to volcanic ash for that s**t you pulled earlier." I was, admittedly, a little bit pissed off.

He tells me that his name is Dale Curl, and that he, and the other guy are board members on the neighborhood association, and it is their job to assure neighborhood security. I told them that I can appreciate that, this is not about security, this is about your attitude. I do not appreciate being treated like s**t, and I made it plain to him. He wrote down all of his info, and then started getting really irate about my position. My position was that his residents are calling me to come to them, which means that I have not come to drop off a bomb, or rob a house. He's getting angrier.

"Well, how's about we just stop all of you motherf**kers from coming in here."

"Suits me just fine. I could care less, really. But your residents are going to b***h, because you are taking away thier convieniences."

"Boy, you got some attitude." He gets right in my face. "How about I just kick your ass right here on the spot?"

"Are you threatening me?" What he didn't know was that another driver from our store was at the guard shack, and witnessing the whole deal.

He starts screaming more, and mentions that Tony Bianca lives in his neighborhood, and he would be glad to call him. Tony Bianca is a major Papa John's figurehead.

"Please, do what you gotta do. I'll tell ya this though. You tell Tony that you are wiping out 1,049 residents worth of potential sales, and he's gonna tell you to get the **** out of his delivery guy's face, and then, very poossibly, that you're gonna get fired."

"That's it! I'm calling the constable to have you removed! You're finished!"

I retreated back to my car. "Dude, it ain't over till the fat lady takes it in the ass."

I jumped in my car, and made my remaining deliveries. I got back to the store, and informed my boss. He called the guy, who outright lied. This was backed up by the other driver.

So, now, I have a meeting with the regional manager, Tony Bianca, the owners of Papa John's, the president of Canyon Gate Community Association, and of course, a visit to the DA's office to file criminal charges against Dale Curl for harassment, and terroristic threats.

Plus, I made $27 in two hours. Not too shabby.


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Originally posted 11-24-2005

Update on the Canyon Gate situation.

I have located the president of the board, and will be going to see her first thing Monday morning. I will explain to her what I have found today, snooping around the community website.

The "unwanted visitors" seem to be stemming from a gate that is continually left open, and/or broken on the back side of the subdivision. The community website has several entries about this being a security hole, and trying to decide what to about it. The great thing is, I never even knew there was a back gate. I always went through the front, at the guard shack. Reason being, all of the guards know my car, and simply wave me on by.

I'll calmy explain to her that Mr. Curl is setting a very bad example for her community, and that I desire a full apology for his actions, or charges will have to be filed against Mr. Curl, and quite possibly her management company for allowing him to treat people in that fashion.

Then, I'll still go down and file charges on his ass anyway.


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Originally posted 11-26-2005

Well, no luck for me at Canyon Gate. They wouldn't send me there last night.

However, there is always tonight, and from reports I have been getting from other drivers, they are making entry EXTREMELY difficult for us pizza guys.

Bad news, I'm afraid.


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Originally posted 11-27-2005

Well, still no trips for me to Canyon Gate, (hmmm, coincidence?) and, still making it hard for our drivers to get in.

In fact, they have moved to a new tactic. We are expected to call our customers first, from our mobile phones, at our expense, and ask them to call the security guard to tell them to let us in.

Does this scan with Zorin? Not simply no, but hell no. I'm not burning off my cellular minutes for this! So, here's what I did!

I did a bit of legal research. Gated community, eh? Means absolutely jack s**t. Here's why. The county built the roads, and maintains the roads. Thsi means that I own the roads. Want to see my receipt? It's bolted to my bumper, and reads 574-DZD. Yes, my current license plate, which means I paid my fair share of taxes and rights to use that road. Want another one? There are no signs stating that those are private roads, and the key map shows them as public too. According to state law, I can legally ram the gate as I wish, as it is an obstruction of traffic on a public road. This.......could get even more fun. There might be a new windshield in the future for the s**theap.

My boss let another little nugget of info slip out last night. Apparently, Mr. Curl told my boss that he should have just gone ahead and kicked my ass. So, that's just dandy. We have not only an eyewitness, but a phone-in confession, too!

I can't wait till tomorrow. That's when I have my battle royale with the property manager. I have decided that I am going to roll up into her office in my favorite gangster suit that I own, a black $900 suit with a gray silk shirt, and a white tie. I have a way of being incredibly imposing, yet very polite, almost scary polite. This is fixing to get extremely good.


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Originally posted 11-28-2005

Well, I can tell that they want to play hardball......

As promised, I drove over to the property manager's office, pressed and dressed in my Sunday best, and what would happen?

"Oh, she's not in today."


So, I figure maybe they are avoiding me. I go out to the car, and call the ofice from my phone. I get her voicemail. I leave her a nice message, and leave my phone number.

No problem, this is not a problem. The longer I wait, the nastier a customer I become.


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Originally posted 11-28-2005

2:51 PM.....second mesage to the property manager, whom the receptionist was nice enough to tell me that she was in.

My boss is not a happy camper, and neither am I. Rudy came out with a world-beater of an idea that I wish I had come up with. I'll whip into Domino's Pizza, and see if they are having problems getting into Canyon Gate. If they are, fabulous! I smell class-action. If they are not, even better! I smell discrimination!


P.S. Either way, I still smell bullsh*t.......

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Originally posted 11-28-2005

3:03 PM....

s**t, that was fast. She called me right back.

Looks like I went to the correct person, too. She was rather appalled at Mr. Curl's actions, and requested that I write a full report, and email it to ther, so she can go over it at the next board meeting, which is on the second Tuesday of the month.

She made special mention of the fact that she did not appreciate her board directors threatening the delivery guy.

Little does she know that Papa John's has something to say, too.


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Originally posted 11-28-2005


This went down, not at all to my satisfaction.

The regional manager actually told me that he doesn't care that Mr. Curl got in my face. In fact, he thinks I am the one to blame for the whole thing, by simply mentioning the fact that I was losing money. My exact words to the regional manager.....

"Hey, you hear that? That distant clanging? That's your brass balls banging together. You got some nerve to expect me to drive for you, tear up my nice car, and pay for all the associated expenses, and have you say that s**t to me. Fat ****....."

Honestly, I'm surprised that I wasn't fired on the spot for that brand of insubordination. Apparently, my boss told what a good driver I am, and of course, right after that, I was on his ass again.

"You guys aren't well versed in employee retention, are you?"

So, I took down his boss' name and phone number, and I will be taking this up with him. Everybody seems to think that Papa John's needs to do nothing about their drivers being threatened while on the clock.

So, my boss got officially warned at the end of my shift tonight.....

"Well, you guys want stellar performance, yes? We'll see just how stellar a job I can do at ******* s**t up. Hear that toilet flushing in the back of your head? That's your bonus heading down the drain. Yessir, I'm gonna pillage, and plunder, and shake dandruff in the Parmesan cheese. I'm going to do lawn jobs, tell customers that their gene pool needs a chlorine shock, and all the other wonderful things I can think up. Are you sure that you want this?"

His reply....

"Well, uh, let me see what can be worked out."

Nothing like strong-arm tactics.


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Originally posted 12-01-2005

You've all been waiting....and now, here it is.

I went to Canyon Gate this evening. And who would be waiting for me but Mr. Curl? George Peppard from the A-Team said it best:

"I love it when a plan comes together."

So, no s**t, there I was, pulling up the gate, with Devil Without A Cause by Kid Rock banging the windows, and they are all greeted by this as window rolls down. The security guard starts grilling me for information as to where I am going, what's the number, blah-blah.

Well, Mr. Curl looks up, and instantly recalls the black Ford Taurus, and instinctively looks inside. He immediately cuts the guard off.

"Naw, naw, never mind all that! He's in uniform, I can see the pizzas on the passenger seat, just let him through, it's cool, just open the door!"

The guard opens the gate, and I ease off the brake, and roll toward the gate, and pass Mr. Curl very, very slowly with a smirk on my face that screams "OWNED!" and when I get next to him, I had to borrow one from Wodinator....

"Mr. Curl, your proctologist called. He found your head!"

He cocked his head, and gave a quizzical look of not understanding what I just said, and it made it that much better. You've seen the look before. The same look that the dog on the RCA records gives the turntable. I call it the quizzical RCA dog look.

Something tells me that the property manager decided to not wait till the next board meeting.......something also tells me that Mr. Curl got the ass-chewing of the season.

In other news, the district manager was on hand at the store today, just to tell me that he's got his eye on me. As he's telling me this, I'm putting my hands up in the air, then acting like I'm biting my nails, totally mocking him. I broke it down for him like so....

"Look. Let's get something straight here. I don't give two s**ts about you, or this job. So, cut the s**t. Here's an ultimatum for ya. Either tell me I'm fired, or shut the **** up. Pick...now!"

He turned around and walked off. I don't think he likes me, and honestly, that's going to make this job even that much more enjoyable. Because besides just playing hell with everything else, now we're going to see just how far you have to push someone to let you go. I might add, that even with all of this lovely insubordination going on, not only have I not been fired, but I have yet to be written up! I'm playing the game like this. I'm doing a good job.....but I don't seem to work and play well with others.

Oh, man, this job keeps getting better and better. The sad thing is, right when i really start having fun, I'll get a job offer, and all we'll be left with is sweet memories.


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Originally posted 12-01-2005

Man, with all the bad s**t going down, we just haven't had any time for some good, old-fashioned fun on the job. Now, this, dear TCCA members, is when I get to do my favorite thing, and smite the ignorant consumer. The really ignorant consumer.

So, about the 9th run or so today, I get a trip out to Decker Oaks. Decker Oaks is at the top of the map, all the way north. Not a bad neighborhood, either. All new houses, probably a hundred grand or so. Nothing fancy, but nothing living-in-a-box-under-the-offramp type of thing.

So, I get there, and it's a very cute blonde, probably 18 or 19, wearing some athletic shorts, and a T-Shirt that said Tomball High School. I didn't think too much of any of it. Well, talk about disorganized....

"Oh, hang on, my money's in my car!"

I stand there, waiting.

"Can you break a hundred?"

I sneered...."No way."

She asks her firend for money, and her friend was broke. So she called her mom.

I stand there, waiting.

She asks me if I can take a credit card.

"Well, you'd have to call the store for that."

She goes back to talking to her mom.

I stand there, waiting....and starting to twitch.

She comes back with a check, which a I gratefully accept, and head about my way. I get in the car, and look at the check. No tip.

So, the night goes on, and I make it to the end. I'm running my checks, and I come across that check from that chick. Well, it's not signed. IT'S NOT SIGNED!!!

Back in the car, I hop, with a demented grin. Haul ass up to Decker Oaks, and whip up to the house. To the door, I go!

She opens the door, and is shocked to see me.

"What's wrong?"

"Did you happen to take that class, you know the one where they teach you how to write checks? I think it's called, uh, 8th grade?"

She gives me a funny look.

I hold up the check. "Now, if you don't mind, sign this."

She signs the check. "Jeez, sorry....what's wrong?"

"I get to drive out here, again, to have you sign a check. It's not even bad enough that you stiffed me on the tip the first time around. So, why not go back and do it for free?"

She looks at me. "Since when do you tip the pizza guy?"

"Since you don't feel like tearing your ass away from Justin Timberlake's picture long enough for you to get the required elements of life, one of which being sustenance! Good day!"

I got back in my car, and felt completely renewed for the day. That felt soooo good. That was sooo much fun. Definately going to have to do that again.


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Originally posted 12-03-2005

Well, nothing happened today. At least not to me.

There's never a more gratifying feeling than when you know that you are corrupting an entire store. Tonight, we have proof!

Our intrepid Tiburon driver heads over to high dollar house. About 175 grand or so. Well, he's hauling ass up the sidewalk, and trips over the guy's Christmas lights. Busts them up pretty good too, and busted himself up pretty good. Scraped arms and knee, and ripped shorts. Anyway, the guy told him to not worry about it, and our man went about his way.

Well, he gets back to the store, and the guy's on the phone with the boss, b***hing about his broken lights. He asks to speak to Hyundai Man. He tells our driver that he wants 5 bucks to replace the strin of lights he broke, and it would have been nice if he had put the rocks back like he found them.

Hyundai Man tells him to **** off, and so does the boss. The guy swears to take it up with someone higher up, and if they come down on anyone, oh, boy, will I have a ball with that. Something to the tune of......

"Oh, I get it. So, it's OK for customers to threaten us, and extort money from us too?"

I don't know who's more fun.....the customers or the management.


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