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Pizza Delivery Confessionals V2.0


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Originally posted 12-06-2005

And tonight's ******* report brought to you by Zorin!

OK, jumping right in with both feet. I get a run to a better off neighborhood on the north side of Tomball. A good trip, too. Close by, and usuallt a tip from this area. But, I wasn't expecting what I got at this guy's house.

I pull up, and the place is a mansion. Absolutely wonderful, built into the side of a small hill. I'm taking in the sights as I walk up to the front door. Hmmm. Is that fresh paint I smell?

Well, I ring the bell, and it goes like this:

"How're you doing this evening sir? Gonna be 15.14 tonight!"

"OK"

"Man, this is a cool place. Just a wicked design to it."

"Thanks. Too bad you'll never have something like it."

I take the cash and walk off without another word said, and I hear him slam and lock the door behind me. I walk out to my car, and open the door. Now, it's getting colder out, and I switch from sodas to French Vanilla cappuchino when it's cold. I throw the hot bag over to the passenger seat, and eye the fresh, steaming 20 ounce coffee sitting in the cupholder. I reach for the coffee.

"************." I say as I grab it from the car. I take two steps toward the front of the car, and give a pitch that the Red Sox would be proud of. WHAM! Coffee explosion above the garage door, all over that nice fresh white paint. Of course, some of that also hit his brand new 7 series BMW parked right there. I grin, and get back in my car. You can plainly see it, and it'll be really nice when it dries, along with the paint, by morning.

When I get back to the store, a surprise awaits. We have a new driver. And, all new hires are required to ride with someone on their first night. Why they picked me, I'll never know. We went on a run, as I was explaining that odd addresses were on one side, evens on the other, usually seperated by fours, sometimes sixes, and so on. We get to the address, and I deliver the pie. I come running back to the car. I notice that the new person seems a bit out of it, so I decided to liven things up a little.

"Now, of course, the first rule is the quicker you can do things, the more runs you can take, and the more money you will make."

"Uh-huh"

Now, sometimes you will find yourself in a situation where you have to change directions quickly. Three point turns take a long time. What would you do?"

"What?"

"Buckle up for safety, motherf-" I say as I floor it in reverse. Right as I get to about 20 miles per hour, I crank the the wheel to the left as hard as I can. The Taurus skids around gracefully, and halfway around, I toss it into drive and floor it. The new hire screamed and shouted, and grabbed the holy s**t handle. We flew off, heading the other way. A perfectly executed Rockford slide.

"What the hell was that?"

"Technically, a J-turn, negotiated at high speed, in reverse. By the way.....pay attention to what those around you are doing. That comes in handy. Any more questions?"

"You're crazy."

I look blankly at my passenger. "What's your point?"

Another fun night!

I'm off tomorrow, but they decided that they like me so much that I'm working the rest of the week, so I'm sure that we will get much more.

Zorin

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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 12-08-2005

Well, tonight was indeed action packed. Sort of.

First on the hit list...a car accident. Mine, too. Fortunately, no damage was sustained by my car in the accident, but here's how it went. I was sitting in the right lane, and a car was trying to squeeze out behind my car, and the car behind me, and get into the left turn lane. Well, one of those Isuzu things that looks like a cross between an SUV and a new Dodge chop-top thing, an Axiom, I think, come blazing ass up the left turn lane. The guy squeezing out keeps squeezing, and the Axiom hits the brakes and the horn at the same time. I look in my mirror.

"Oh, s**t. This is gonna hurt."

WHAM! The Isuzu hits the car behind me, and pushes him into my car. Fortunately, my car suffered not one single scratch. This did not stop me from getting out of my car, and beating on the guy's window, yelling at him to get out of the car. He repeatedly power-locked his doors. I told him that he'd best pay more attention next time, and have some patience, or I'll find him, and teach him some. I ended the conversation be reiterating that he got off lucky.

Little bit later in the evening, I get a run to the Brown Road apartment complex, where I had the problem that Dale Curl made seem insignificant. Anyway, once again, awesome time. Allow me to mention at this time, that tonight is cold. As Racer X would put it, "brick". Well, today, it was as brick as it gets, and this translates to about 29 degrees. So, I get to her apartment, and the first thing she mentions is how fast the delivery was.

"Yes ma'am, I certainly try. Nothing like a hot pizza on a frigid night, right?" I hand her the credit card slip to sign, and she takes it and signs it. I get it back and look at it. No tip.

"Excuse me for just a moment, ma'am, but you do realize that your actions here can be considered exceptionally, and appallingly rude. You commented on how fast the delivery was, yet, you still didn't tip."

She looked shocked and stunned. "Well, uhhhh, tipping promotes fast driving, and putting the general populace in danger." She struggled for a really good sounding excuse. But suddenly, she shifted gears on me.

"It's all a conspiracy anyway! All perpetuated by the acquisition of the almighty dollar!"

Oh, s**t. I had managed to get hold of a loon with a frikin' conspiracy theory. I just figured that I would add on to it for her.

"Well, ma'am, you are aware that we put non-tippers in our database, aren't you? It all goes on the computer when I file my nightly report." I looked at her and said in my best Orwellian voice, "You really don't want to be on the computer, do you?"

She screamed, and slammed the door. I couldn't help it. I broke out laughing right then and there, as much as I try to to keep it in until I get to the car, I just couldn't. It was too funny.

Moving right along, on the same run, since I had a double, I had to go about 5 miles north of Brown Road, up to Decker Prairie. While waiting to turn onto Hardin Store Road, that leads to Decker Prairie, up behind me comes a Chevy 2500HD with it's high beams on. And pointed directly into my driver's side sideview mirror. It's blinding the **** out of me.

So, I start fiddling with the power mirror. Run it up, and side to side, and watching through the rearview where the light's going. I finally find the guy's face, and leave the mirror there until he cuts his high beams off.

Well, I guess this pissed him off. Because he followed me all the way to my customer's house. I was completing my business with my customer when this retard comes up and starts shouting. Great. A drunk redneck. With a score to settle.

"Boy, you think you are pretty slick, don't ya?"

"Yep."

"How's about I give you a whoopin', pizza boy?"

"What? You gonna give me a whoopin'?"

"Yeah." he says, and pushes me, really hard. A split second later, he was on the ground. I kicked him in the balls, with my size 14 steel toed boot, with great force.

I looked at my customer. "Sorry about that."

"Oh, no big deal. I think all of this is hilarious. I was hoping that you weren't going to take that s**t."

I left it at that, and when I got back to the store, I cashed out and left.

Must be the cold....makes everyone frisky.

Zorin

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Originally posted 12-13-2005

With the tax and property bullsh*t going down, I went to work tonight, and figured I should shake it up a little. The s**t was getting old, and I needed some ******** customer to unload on.

Fate smiled upon me.

I got a run out to Lutheran Church Rd. There's a church there.....go figure. So I drive out there, right? Can't find the house. It's a dark road, something that looks like Charlie Manson would enjoy hanging out on, so I proceed to the well-lit church, and call the customer. No answer.

I call the shop, they call, still no answer. So, I tell the shop that I will try on the way out, and if no good, I'm coming back with the pizzas. Well, I find the place, and it is encircled by a chain link fence, about 50 feet from the house. Rules are that we cannot open gates. Never know what's around. So, I call the customer again, and thankfully, they answer. I tell them that I am in the driveway, and that I cannot open the gate.

So, this 80 year old man comes out, and starts b***hing.

"This is bullsh*t! Pizza guys open the gate all the time! You just don't want to get out of your car." I was standing at the gate, with all of his items.

"Sir, by the rules, I am not allowed to open the gate for your safety, as well as mine."

"Oh, bullsh*t. bullsh*t!"

"Look, you geriatric old fart, it's not bullsh*t, and I do not appreciate being yelled at. So, here's your pizza, take it, have some dinner, and then get it on with your floppy old wife, and get the **** outta my face. Rules are rules, so the next time you want pizza, I'd recommend Domino's!"

Of course, as was to be expected, he called in on me, and even better, the regional ***** was there. So, another round of hilarity ensued.

"Mr. Finn, we do not berate our customers, those that pay our wages, in that fashion."

"Yes, but we also do not open gates. You know, I have a thing with homicidal maniacs sitting in the living room with the lights out and .357 waiting for some poor loser to open the gate. Or better yet, some rabid-ass dog that's dying to take a chunk outta ya."

"Well, we open his gate."

"**** you. Not his gate, not your gate, nobody's gate. I refuse to take the risks involved. Tell you what. This is getting noisy, so let's step outside, shall we?"

He started backpedaling. "Well, no that's OK, but-"

"But nothing. Stop being a ******* ninny and step outside, I got a few things to settle here, and I'd rather not do it front of the customers. Bad for PR, ya know?"

He turns to my boss. "Clock him out, please. He's done for the day."

I nodded. "Now we really need to step outside."

I went and checked out, and changed clothes. I decided to wait in the parking lot for moment, so I lit a cigarette and leaned against the front of my car. Of course, out bops the regional guy. Heads right over.

"You know I told you that you can't change clothes here."

"So what? I was off the clock, you gotta problem?"

"Yeah, I don't like people directly disobeying me."

"Like your the ******* king of the pizza world. Listen up professor, you can't do s**t to me. I have one the best records in the store for customer satisfaction, and one of the best records for deliveries per hour, and not one single traffic ticket. You fire me, and it'll seem like you just don't like me. G'head."

"I'm on your ass from here on out."

"Listen.....you **** with me, and I'll make it bad for you. Don't think I can do it? Piss me off. G'head. Get on my nerves. I'll take care of you personally, and professionally. Want an example? Look at Mr. Curl. I understand he's skating on pretty thin ice right now. Which, by the way, was a difficult situation that I handled for you, with no help from you. I'm sure folks will be interested to learn about that little fiasco. Not to mention all the other s**t I can dredge up.

With a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, he turned and walked to his car.

Spreadin' da wealth of stress!

Zorin

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Originally posted 12-15-2005

I'll bet that you thought I forgot!

NEVAR!

Sadly, tonight's confessional does not involve me. Once again, it involves the Tiburon Guy. Amusingly, the Tiburon Guy doesn't have the Tiburon right now. He's bombing about in a crappy looking, but amazing powerful '97 Dodge Ram pickup. The TBI on this thing should simply be labeled "five-gallon-flush". But, I digress.

Tiburon Man went to Village Square apartments, and it was the last run of the night. Called in two minutes before close, and Tiburon Guy was anxious to do the deal, and get it done. So, at the apartments, he was at the gate, and since we've had torrential rainfall, the parking lot was more of a lake. No big deal, the big Dodge has massive tires on it. He notices another Dodge pickup parked off to the side, no biggie, probably just someone without a gate code.

So, he's going through the gate, and he spins the tires a little bit, not even enough to bark. He gets through the complex at about 20 miles per hour, and gets to the apartment. All of a sudden, here comes the other Dodge truck. It's some hill-billy in a camo shirt. He starts looking all over Tiburon Guy's truck with his flashlight. Tiburon Guy starts to wonder....

He goes downstairs. Camo Man looks at him.

"Can I see your ID?"

Tiburon Guy sneers. "Who are you?"

"I'm a cop."

"Really? Where's your badge? Your gun? Your car?"

Camo Man gets pissed off. Starts telling Tiburon Man that he's going to report it to the local cops, he's banned from the complex, all this bullsh*t. Camo Man also wants to talk to Tiburon Guy's boss right now. Fine. Tiburon Guy gives him the info and leaves.

Well, on the way back, Tiburon Guy makes a phone call. To me. Tells me everything. I'm waiting on Tiburon Guy to call back right now, because I told Tiburon Guy to beat this guy to the punch, and call the police and report that this country bumpkin was impersonating a cop.

I'm sure they'll find that more interesting than a little peel out in the water. I am slowly eroding this establishment, and it feels so good.

Zorin

EDIT: 12:18A

Tiburon Man just called back. This just got good.

Turns out, the cop that showed up has gotten complaints about this ***** before. He was in the process of taking a complaint when a burglary call went out, and couldn't follow up on it. So, when Tiburon Man called, the cop that responded, the same cop that took the last complaint, was extremely happy to hear this. The cop asked Tiburon Man if he could pick him out of a line up. Tiburon Man said he would with a big old grin on his face. And, this gets better....

Also turns out that this very same sum-b***h has told our manager, who by odd happenstance lives at that complex, that he was a cop and that he needed to move his truck. So, that's another log on the fire. Here, I have advance warning.

The cops have told us that if he ***** with us again, to sit tight, and call the cops. So, here's what I am going to do. My roomate has a very good USB camera. I'll take that, and his laptop, and wire my car. I'll take tomorrow's Village Square run, stir the s**tpot, and get it on camera!

Who better to stir the s**tpot? Hey, Camo Man.....Zorin is coming for your ass!

Zorin

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Originally posted 12-23-2005

Well, things have been sluggish at work, sorta boring, so, Tiburon Man and myself teamed as partners in crime to liven things up a bit.

Now, before you sigh, let me tell you. This guy's crazier than me.

First thing, we both had a runs going south. So, we decided with all the hubbub about environmentalism, why not carpool? It seemed like a fine idea at the time, so we hopped in the Tiburon and blasted off. We decided to take a certain road that would shave off time, but we hit a small snag. A small snag that included 4 locomotives. So, Tiburon Man took a lesson from me, and yanked up the handbrake, and around we went. Shooting back off the other way, we hit the main highway intersection. Unfortunately, there were too many cars waiting to turn left, so Tiburon Man turned right.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?" I asked as he floored the car in second.

"THIS!" he said as he yanked the handbrake again, and spun the Tiburon 180 degrees on a four lane highway.

We took back off the other way, and made it to the neighborhood, where Tiburon Man declared that 100 miles per hour should be sufficient on the straightaway to the back of the area. I thoughtm and assumed, that he was lying. He was not.

On to the next delivery, he went fairly easy, because it was a very populated neighborhood. Meanwhile, back at the store, my boss has noticed that I have left, and my Ford Taurus hasn't. So, he rings my cellular phone, which I had left in the door pocket of the Taurus. This did not please him. In fact, there was a fair bit of explanation that went on upon our return.

In fact, he wanted to see real results. So, he gave me the night off, and Tiburon Man the worst double run you could ever hope for. In fact, I have made you a crude as hell map of where we went, and how. Excuse my chicken scratch, but I ain't Picasso.

modmap2up.gif

Now, the deal was, this double, represented by the red dot for the first stop, and where the line changes from red to green for the second address. What's more, this had to be completed in thirty minutes, and that was the green line. Green line is the trip back to the store. So, there, and back in thirty minutes in a '05 Tiburon GT.

It started with Tiburon Man having to wait while I ran in the store for something. But, I came back out running, and jumped into the car through the passenger side window, while Tiburon Man burned rubber. And then we saw the cop. We made a nice duck behind Walgreen's and kept on flying, and the cop never saw us.

First stop, Hufsmith Cemetary Road, off of Hufsmith Road. We're sitting by the railroad tracks, and I hear 'a train 'a comin'. So did Tiburon Man, and he dropped the clutch at 5000 rpm, and off we went, blazing the red light. We get to the house, and he runs to the door. Everything goes well, he runs back for the car, and jumps in.

"What the hell are you going to do about the train?" I asked him.

"Don't even worry about that train. I got an angle." he says as we screech off.

Well, this is where the red line goes off the map to the north. We went up there, and started cutting down back roads, and typically doing over a hundred miles per hour. We came to Hardin Store Road, which is the road that we come back onto the map on, and man, I think time and space bent. I do not recall how fast we were going, but it was fast enough to make the telephones look like a picket fence.

We make the delivery on Decker Rd. Looking at the clock, we have six minutes to get back to the south side of downtown Tomball. I should mention at this point, we were driving faster, because we had almost no brakes. The car did smell reasonably new when we left, by this point, it reeked of burning brake pads. We flew down State Highway 249, and I was constantly b***hing about how he's gonna crack a rotor, when there is an abrupt bump. It was us, flying into HEB's parking lot. We negotiated the parking lot at Warp Factor Nine, and flew into the other parking lot that houses the shop. We pull up, screaming tires, sizzling brakes, and he runs from the car to clock in.

The clock on the computer........said.......twenty nine minutes, and fifty two seconds.

I, on the other hand, was ready to kiss the ground. Folks, I'm really good, and can probably beat Tiburon Man around a track, but he's good!

Zorin

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Originally posted 12-31-2005

I know, I know....

You've all been waiting, but it's been quiet. Nothing happening......boring.

I'm sure New Year's shall change all that, though. I have to work, and gee whiz, there's a firecracker stand right there. Hmmmm....ideas are flowing....what can I do to spice s**t up? Tee-hee!

Zorin

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Originally posted 01-04-2006

I'm sure you've all been waiting....

And we got a few notable things. Firstly, Mr. FFVulcanPower came for a ride along.

Something he didn't get to see was the inside action. Like when Carrie was bugging about the soda cooler.

"Omigodthecollerneedsrestockedandithastoberotateda ndandandand."

One of the other guys, a known smart-ass, simply replies, "Jesus Christ, we're not operating on children here."

I look over at the manager on duty. "Is she for real?"

"She's just anal about things."

"Oh, she's anal, all right."

First run, we got a freebie to Park Road, a nicely unlit area, and poorly organized. You know, a house here, a house there, maybe somebody went to Ace hardware and bought numbers for that mailbox that had been shot three or four times......

Anyway, we find the house, and I pull up. I'm getting out of the car, and the hounds were released. This black dog comes running up, and looks like it wants a piece.....so I take a kick at it, miss it, but it gets the point. It runs away. I deliver the pie. Of course, the kid stiffs me.

So, I'm walking back to the car, and they have a young Chow that looks like he's ready to take a turn. Tip! A rolled up hot bag makes a useful dog swatta in a pinch.

Next run. Get a run to Berry Hill, which somehow doesn't remind me of any Fats Domino tunes. We turn onto the street, and there's no damned mailboxes at all! So I call the number, and they tell me where they are. I pull up immediately, and they try to shortchange me on the pie by about a buck. I could see it coming already....she came back out with a dollar, of which she added to the previous 15 she had handed to me. Well, since the pie was $15.78, this made for a piss poor tip to boot, a lousy 22 cents. So, I got back in the car, and buckled my seat belt.

"Mark, did you know that they only gave me 22 cents for a tip?"

"Really?"

"Really!" I said as I floored it in reverse. I had parked in a grassy shallow ditch, and when I cranked the wheel, the Taurus gracefully slid around and stopped perfectly on the street, pointed the way out. Off we went.

We get back, and Mark decided that he'd had enough. So fine, I'll go in and jack around inside for a while. More employee problems. Our intrepid PT Cruiser driver had forgotten to clock in from his last run, so I punched right in. This ticked him off when they gave me the run before him. He started pissing and moaning about it, and then told me to get out of his sight. Just walk off. I'm thinking, you know better than to pull this s**t with me. Since it was such a bad night anyway, I conceded, and told the man in charge thusly:

"**** it! I'm not catching heat because he was out there jaw-jacking, and didn't clock back in. He can have it, I'm going to go home and light farts on the sofa....be more entertaining than this s**t."

They groaned, some grimaced in disgust, and PT Cruiser apologized. I still left, because it was the deadest sum-b***h I ever did see for a Tuesday night.

Zorin

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Originally posted 01-04-2006

I swear, these things come in spurts.

Today, we had some fun on the job. Mark really should have been along for this...

First item up for scorn:

Get a run to Orchard Grove. I'm going down one of the narrow little streets, and what would I find but a Ford Expedition, with it's brights on, heading straight for me, on the wrong side of the road. So, I pull to a stop, and start flashing my high beams. The Expedition keeps creeping towards me. Finally, I decide that I have had enough, and I toss it in reverse, and start backing up down the street, blowing the horn, with the high beams on. Finally, the Expedition stops, and cuts off it's lights. It pulls into a driveway. I pull back up, and lower the passenger side window.

"You know, in America, we drive on the right side of the road. And we don't noramlly use high beams. *******."

The woman just looked at me like I was from outer space, which didn't shock me considering the way she drove.

Second scornful item:

Coming back from the infamous Decker Prairie, I'm scooting down the 249, and a Lexus with projectors is slowly moving up. He too has his high beams on, however, being projectors, they are significantly brighter than the regular halogens on the Expedition from earlier in the evening. He works his way right alongside me, and I flip on the driver's side map lamp. I start blowing the horn, and when I see him look over, I shoot him the finger in the most glorious fashion imaginable. As luck would have it, we catch the next red light, side by side. He's yelling at me. The passenger side window lower again.

"You got a problem, buddy?"

"Would you kindly not drive around on decently lit roads with your million-lumen projectors on high beam?"

"Well, they weren't for you, ********!"

"OK, lemme solve this." I said. In one fluid motion, I threw the Taurus in park, released my seatbelt, opened the door, and mashed the trunk release button. I walked to the back of the car, and removed my trusty tire iron. I walked around the passenger side of my car, and he was watching me walk up, and noticed the tire tool.

"Oh, s**t!" He floored it, and the Lexus squirted off.

Now, quite a few people traveling in the same group of cars all saw this, and when I tossed the tire tool back in my trunk and slammed it, I noticed that folks were honking and giving me the thumbs up. Of course, it also dawned on me that not only did I have a Papa John's flag flying from the window, but I also in uniform.

I guess this will be the year that people are somewhat reactionary.

See? Mark missed the really fun stuff. Now, it'll probably be quiet for a couple of more weeks.

Zorin

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Originally posted 01-08-2006

Hear ye, hear ye.

This weekend has been rife with oddities. We shall take it from the top, starting yesterday evening.

OK, first thing right off the bat, what do we got? A run to Rudel Rd. No biggie, I figure it's a charity run anyway, plus I had a double, up to Decker Prairie. Anyway, I get to Rudel Rd, and the damn gate is closed. OK, no biggoe, I have a code for the gate. Well, they changed the code, because it doesn't work. OK, still not a problem. I'll just call the tenant from the gate box, and have them buzz it open. No dice, it still says "Invalid Code". So, I notice that I'm also holding up traffic. I have two girls in a 2005 Toyota Corolla behind me. So I put it in reverse, and I wait. While I wait, I notice that the my reverse lights illuminate the interior of their car quite nicely.

Let's see. The passenger is intently drawing a new face in the reflection of the vanity mirror, and the driver is engrossed in a conversation on her cellular phone. I let a full minute go by, and I decide that something must be done. I take my car out of reverse, and put it back in. The reverse lights go blink, and the girls do not even flinch. I look at the passenger in my mirror, and she had a look on her face like:

"Oh, Thank God. That bright light just came back on while I was doing my eyebrows. Luck is upon me tonight."

I fidget, and finally get to the point of where Zorin and most people differ. I started blowing my horn in a very annoying fashion, random honks and chirps. This is because I'm beating the steering wheel like Tyson at a championship fight.

This, does not get them to move. Finally, someone else in another Taurus pulls up, and opens the gate. I really wanted to say something to those girls, but I figured that it would be a real waste of breath. Something told me I would need it later.

And it happened. The Starion in indirectly to blame for this one. I stopped in at AutoZone because I forgot the one gasket in the car that I have not yet bought. The water pump gasket. They say they have one, but after ten minutes of no gasket production, they admitted that they didn't.

So I left, in a rather big hurry because I was still on the clock, and of course, while merging, some rubber was laid. AutoZone called the damn store and b***hed to my boss! Who promptly clocked me out! As a result, I have now boycotted AutoZone. I figure for what I have spent at AutoZone, I ought to be able to piss in the ash trays.

So I go home and work on the Starion for lots of hours, and try to start it to find out that I screwed up the cam timing, and the engine must come apart again. So, let's just say that I went in in a rather foul mood. And only got two runs. Get this!

First run today, I heard something never before heard. Yes, that's right. The guy told me that he couldn't tip me because he spent it all at the collection plate at church. And he paid with a credit card. I simply could not respond. Taken completely aback, I was not ready with my Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker one-liners.

Oh, well. Everybody is so jolly that Christmas is over, it makes you wonder how we even bother to get worked up for Christmas.

Zorin

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Originally posted 01-19-2006

You thought I would let you down on the last night of Pizza Delivery, didn't you?

Absolutely not.

Starting straight away, we go to, drum roll please, Canyon Gate. And there's a new security guard. Great. He wants to check everyone. OK, let's see what he does when he gets to me.

"Where are you heading, sir?"

"In there. I'm Papa John's, and I gotta delivery here. Canyon Bay Road."

"Well, what's the phone number?"

I give him the number, he calls, they do not answer. "OK, sir, I'm going to have to have you turn around, and come out the other side."

I had premeditated this one. I simply grinned. "Sure. Sure thing, buddy."

He hits the button for the gate, I hit the gas. Hard. To the floor. The Taurus squatted, and started smoking the front tires. This time, I blazed the gate with 200 horsepower of fury, and it sounded like it meant it. The guard came running out of the shack. So what? I made my delivery, and had company waiting for me when I came back. Mr. Curl, and Mr. Spencer. Mr. Curl got what was deserved, finally. I pulled up to the gate, and as it opened, he directed me to the side, while standing in the street. This was a mistake on his part. Because when the gate opened, I floored it again, and came at him, burning rubber again. He jumped out of the way, and I hooked a right as Mr. Curl ran for his truck. Piss on him.

So, I went to the next order. This one was on a cul de sac. I parked, pretty much blocking the street, like I always do, but it's a cul de sac. You can get around. What I didn't anticipate was the old bag writing a check at the door. Meanwhile, a GMC Jimmy pulls up, and starts honking. I simply stand there. She finishes with the check, and I casually stroll to the car. The guy in the Jimmy is pissed.

"Hey! You gonna move for my ass?!"

I shot him the finger. "Ever hear of reverse, asspipe?" He starts to get out of his truck. I stopped.

Looking at him stand at the front of my car with a scowl, I sigh. "You got a problem?"

"Yeah, you goddamn pizza guys are always driving like madmen around here. How about I **** you up?"

Now this is what I have been waiting for. A nice personal threat, and on my last day. What a treat. I start pulling off my flannel that I typically wear over my uniform.

"You don't want any of me. Get back in your car, I'll get back in mine, and everything will be cool. If you take one more step towards me, I'll hammer your ass through the lawn, and then you'll go to jail, because I'll say you are trying to rob me. And since I have that impression, what's stopping me from going the extra mile? When somebody is trying to rob me, I can take pretty much whatever extreme I deem necessary. Including the permanently extreme."

I just gave him a dirty look, and he turned around and got back in the Jimmy. Wise move.

Well, folks, that's a wrap. The job's over, the confessionals are over, and I left work with a big old smile on my face. It's been a fun ride, and I'm glad you were all here to ride with me. Especially since I started this from day one on the job. Crazy, ain't it?

Zorin

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Epilogue - Originally posted 04-27-2007

Canyon Gate went back to hassling the pizza guys.

Now, bear with me, this has been a good six months, and I honestly didn't think to add it on here.

But Mr. Curl got ugly with Tiburon Man. They started being total jack-wads about who goes in and out of their elitist, fascist community, and Tiburon Man got the best of it.

You have to understand, he's a fast one. He'll really roll out to run the pie. He's also every bit as excitable as me. Anyway, Curl decided to hold him up one night at the gate, and get rude. So, Tiburon Man, following an example (no names shall be mentioned here) got out of the car, and went up to Mr. Curl, and got in his face about it. One thing led to another, and a memory of the "******* in the black Taurus" was hashed. Mr. Curl determined that he ought to finish the job he never got around to starting.

Boy, did he pick a bad battle. Tiburon Man is shorter than me, but a bit stockier, and believe me, built like a brick s**t-house. Mr. Curl shoved him, and Tiburon Man gave him a nice crack on the jaw for it. Mr. Curl went down like a sack of potatoes.

Thanks to a couple of witnesses (the security guard, and a resident) Tiburon Man was not charged, as it was determined that he was acting in self defense, and that Mr. Curl had indeed started it. Also, it was brought up again to the homeowner's association, and they determined that with the fracas I was in, as well as a few other complaints, Mr. Curl was removed from the board.

So, all's well that ends well. I did speak to the crew at Papa John's about a month ago, and they all miss the enjoyment that I had brought them on the job, as well as the occasional excitability. I was informed, though, that the regional manager breathed a HUGE sigh of relief the day I put in my resignation.

And gang, thanks again. Like I said before, I'm touched and honored that you all enjoyed this as much as you did.

Tim

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Yeah, it's missing the ambiance of everyone else shouting "GO ZORIN GO!".........but the meat of the matter is here for everyone's enjoyment.

Tim

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Oh... my... GOSH!!!!!!

That is some of the craziest stuff ever!!! I loved every bit of it! Wish i could have fun like this at work but I'm the quiet never-say-a-peep type of guy.

These confessionals are a must read! Especially the one about the kid trying to rob you. That was just an awesome piece of work :thumbs:.

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  • 1 month later...

LOL!!! Oh the memories this brings up... I delivered for the Campus location of Little Ceasers in Tuscaloosa, Al from about 94-96 ish. Many stories I'd have to sit and remember, but my favorite:

We had a guy that worked inside named Ed. Now Ed was a big guy, into Death metal, Zorin you kinda remind me of him LOL. Anyhow, Ed was a great guy...so long as you didn't piss him off. Oh, and Ed LOVED his pot, so by extension he HATED cops. So we get a call from one one night, and Ed says, "I'm makin this one!" So he takes the dough, goes into the freezer, and doesn't come back out for about 10 min... :blink:... Comes back out, and makes the pizza... Gives it to the cop when he comes to pick it up... and I kid you not, "I was standing beside the phones when the guy called back(recognized his number) and says that it's the best pizza he's ever had from there :lol::lol: :lol: .

Another funny thing about Ed, He was like 6' 2 or 3, almost 300 lbs, and drove one of those TINY late 70's Toyotas... We're talking shoehorn here LOL... he'd leave after we closed, wide open and that little Toyota would be heeled over like a close-hauled sailboat:P

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Death metal? Big guy? Great guy till you piss me off?

Where ever would you get SUCH an idea?

picture002pp.jpg

I'm just a lovable, adorable little fuzzball.

Tim

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Probably.....

Just think if I mixed the above pic, with this pic.......

26024_101989349842073_100000930252739_16145_2712730_n.jpg

You may be getting the idea.

As for that other Tim up there, look at that crap he's packing. Para-Ordnance P18.9! At least I pack a real weapon. Beretta 92, baby.....the gun of John McClane, and Martin Riggs.

Nevertheless, if I had to be a movie-guy bad ass, I think I'd pick this fellow.....

300px-Transporter_poster.jpg

Oh, by the way, he's got taste in guns too.....he's sporting a couple of 92's.

Tim

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