Through the Eyes of a Delivery Goddess |
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Joe, one of our young twenty-something pizza drivers, returned to the shop one afternoon WITH the pizza he had been assigned to deliver. I overheard him tell the manager, "I'm not going back there, I don't care". When I asked for the address, he said it was the farm on the corner of Martin Road. I was familiar with it - it's on Bob's paper route; we pass by there daily. He claimed that the goose chased him back to his car. Everyone in the shop roared with laughter. I picked up the pizza and said, "I'll deliver it -" turned to the laughing crowd and continued - "Many farmers use geese as guard dogs. They're meaner and can't be bought off with a steak." The laughter died and I was pushed out of the store by groans. "Yah, right... Uh-huh... sure... " etc. My momma always told me that farmers had geese instead of guard dogs, although, to my knowledge, I hadn't been chased by any ... yet. When I got to the farm, there were, indeed, a half of a dozen large white geese running around in the front yard. As I got close to the house, they darted toward me, spreading their wings and honking their horns. I kept walking. One got really close, so I stomped my foot and lunged at it - it backed off a bit. I slowly made my way through the crowd of squawkers - by the time I got to the front steps, not only were all of the geese behind me trying to encourage me to leave, but the husband (I assume) was coming out of the front door, and he did not look happy. At the risk of being rude, there are some nationalities that either don't know it's nice to tip a delivery driver, or else just plain don't agree with it. So, unfortunatly, my human sub-conscious thoughts took over and assumed there would be no tip at this delivery, and I'd probably have to argue to even get the cost of the food reimbursed. I was right. He proceeded to tell me that he was appalled at how long it took us to deliver this pizza, and that his family was on their way to a funeral, and they had to pick someone up on the way, and on and on. I stood in such a way, that he could not easily pull the pizza from my hands until I was ready to hand it over, and when he was finally done griping, he reached for his wallet. I gave him the amount, and as expected, he said, "minus five dollars because it's late". So, I returned, "No - that will be ten dollars extra, since your guard geese chased off the first driver who was here almost a half hour ago and he was afraid to get more than ten feet from his car. And, I suggest in the future, you either put your guard animals away, if you've ORDERED something to be delivered here, and might I also suggest, that delivery is only as accurate as the amount of deliveries we have to make. If you have somewhere you need to be at a certain time, then you need to get your butt out of the house with enough extra time to stop and pick up the pizza on the way. Do not blame this situation on the pizza shop - this is clearly poor judgement on your part." I figured, if he wasn't going to pay for the whole cost of the food, anyway, I might as well lay it on good and thick. He looked at me, then glanced around me at his geese, who had by now, calmed down, but had not dispersed from my heels. "Well, I never thought anyone would be afraid of a goose," he said more calmly as he handed me money. I counted the money and handed him back the extra ten he'd added. I felt myself getting faint- I could not believe he'd actually added another ten dollars to the bill. I don't think anyone had ever stood up to this guy before - he was used to walking on everybody. He was a completely different person as he stuttered, "I suppose I should have picked up the pizza since I knew my family could not be ready on time. I'm sorry." I said with a smile, "You owe the other driver an appology - he had to change his diaper when he got back to the shop." The fellow kind of lowered his head, almost to bow down, then turned and walked away. I still did not get a tip, but at least I got every penny of the cost of the food. That's all I expected to begin with, anyway. The moral is: Milk bones in one pocket - bread crumbs in the other. |