Through the Eyes of a Delivery Goddess |
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I know I've spoken in the past about the smaller privately owned pizza shop for which I delivered over the course of about a year. I delivered one night to a middle-aged man who was very intoxicated when he came to the door. He had a very difficult time counting out his money, and an equally difficult time remaining vertical. Most people know that when folks are beyond their limit of alcohol, they've lost a good amount of muscle control and their mid-section seems to turn to rubber. This guy asked me over and over to come in and help him eat his sandwich, and I repeatedly said "no". He had only steps that led up to his door, no real porch or even landing at the top, so I didn't have much choice but to stand on the top step with one foot,and prop the door open with the other. I didn't even wait for him to try and count a tip from his wad of wrinkled bills, once I had enough money to cover the order, I split. He opened the door and hollered, "Wait, what about your tip?" but I never looked back. When I returned to the shop, I told the owner / boss that I absolutely did NOT want to go back there that night, and I had an idea he'd call back since he wanted me to come in and eat with him. While I was there, he made some comment about me being better looking than the normal delivery gal, but I'm not sure how he could even tell if I was a human being or a giraffe. As I expected, he called back for pizza this time, and also as expected, the boss sent me back there. I got to the top step, the hard door was already open, only the storm door was between myself and a man who was now bent over sideways at the waste in an "L" shape. I opened the door enough to slide the pizza in - I was not even going to wait for money, I just didn't care, I wanted to run away as quickly as possible, but the rubber middled man managed to gain enough muscle power to stand vertical for a split second, then fall over forward with his forehead on my shoulder. He had pushed the storm door further open with his hand. I grabbed the pizza and tossed it onto the floor - it landed flat (remember, I've never flipped a pizza, at least not on a delivery) - then gave him a really good shove so he fell backward into his hallway. He started choking and laughing saying something like, "Dude, what just happened?" I turned and ran down the steps, got into the car and laid a patch of rubber probably 20 feet long. When I got back to the shop this time, I informed the boss that I was NOT paying for his pizza, and I did NOT wait around long enough for him to pay me. I tried to explain to her that he was on the verge of overdose on my second visit, and I wanted NO parts of being witness to THAT! I honestly think that she thought I was making it all up. She made me pay half price for the pizza; she said I should have brought it back with me. For what? For you to resell? I should HOPE not! What's the point, it's lost money because I told her I was NOT going back there, and she made the choice to send me back. She swore the person on the phone did not seem drunk, but I know that the person who answered the door was beyond drunk. Amazingly enough, a few weeks after I quit, she called me one night, asking for the address of that guy who was so drunk he couldn't stand straight and leaned on me when I opened the door. I told her I couldn't remember the exact house number, but described the house to her. She had just been there, and again, the guy was like jello on a stick, but was rude to her, demanding to know where the goddess was that brought his food last time. I think she was hurt. She claims she charged him double, then posted a note at the cash register explaining that no one should take an order from that address any more. THE DELIVERY GODDESS. |