So after about 2 years of being a pizza delivery girl, I’m fed up!
1. First off, lets put in a simple fact: Pizza delivery is considered a hazardous job by the US government. They are third most likely to be murdered on the job, right after police officers and taxi drivers. Myself being a 22 year old female, that risk is approximately 5 times greater. Although I’m not in the US, Canada has plenty of latent axe-wielding maniacs, disgruntled computer geeks that haven’t stepped out of their house in months, crazy cat ladies, pig men, and other potentially dangerous creatures. That brings me to my next point…
2. If I drive 10 km out of town to your trailer park, and you open the door in a sleeveless plaid shirt, and then ask me to come in, don’t get offended if I don’t. Don’t get offended if I take off running either. You might be a decent guy, but I’ve seen enough cliché axe murderer movies to know better.
3. Chances are, though, if you’re the creep in the plaid shirt living in the trailer park, I will probably like you a lot more than that family in the mansion in the most affluent part of town. Because, you, scary redneck friend, are probably going to tip me close to 30% of the order. Whereas foreign mansion family will end up giving me a 20 on a $19.80 order and generously tell me to keep the change. Ever wonder how some people can afford to live in a 6500 sq ft house with a swimming pool? They don’t tip.
4. That brings us to tipping. To the lady that asked me if I was in school, and upon my affirmative reply gave me a quarter, and said “I know how hard it is to be in school and work so hard” – Thanks!! You were pretty young too, and of course living in one of those mansions. I thought you’d know better. To the guy who told me I was really cute for a pizza delivery driver and left me no tip – thanks!! My cuteness won’t pay for nursing school. To the Korean broad that waited for me to count out the nickels and dimes and then got mad because I don’t carry pennies and thus couldn’t give exact change( 3 more cants), who then called my boss and told him she was “lipped off” ( think she meant ripped off) – Fuck you!
5. If you tell me you can’t afford to tip when I get there, you can’t afford delivery.
6. If you can’t afford delivery charges, you can’t afford delivery. To that guy who called the pizza place and asked us to deliver 2 towns over (we’re in Coquitlam, he was in maple ridge) and asked us to take off the delivery charge too because he can’t afford gas for even himself: Fuck you, you selfish prick. Clearly you know the price of gas these days, and you’re probably smart enough to know that the petroleum pixies don’t come and fill my tank every night, so don’t tell me it’s my loss when I refuse to deliver to you.
7. Lets put down some blatant honesty: I’m not hot. I can maybe pull off cute on a good day, so I don’t know why I suddenly transform into a goddess when I come to your door with food. Clearly you’ve been watching way too many pornos.
8. #7 goes double for rainy days. Apparently runny makeup and flat hair mixed with pizza are major turn for the lazy Dom asses of Coquitlam. No I don’t need a towel. No I will not come in to dry off. I can’t give you my number. What? No, really, I’m not into that.
9. Don’t get mad at me if we made a mistake on your pizza. Chances are you knew we were going to make a mistake if you check the pizza at the front door. Also, most of the high school kids I work with don’t have a clue as to what a quadrant is… “I want pineapple in quadrants 1 and 2, and ham in quadrants 1 and 4 and half of quadrant 3 with pepperoni” Gimme a fucking break!! . And who the hell orders pizza in quadrants anyways?
10. Don’t get mad at me if your pizza is 45 minutes late. I was trapped on some guy’s front porch while a bear was sniffing around my car that now permanently smells like a pizza. Yes, a bear. And don’t act surprised, we live in the middle of fucking nowhere. And don’t leave me no tip me because I’m “a liar”. If I wanted to swing by a friend’s house on my way to your place, I’d say I was caught in traffic, or something more believable than a fucking bear!
11. Speaking of traffic… The neighborhood where I work is predominantly foreign (I wont say what nationality but you can probably guess where bad drivers that happen to be non-tippers come from). So if I’m late because a hummer that has “environmental consultants” written on it (ah, how I love cliché’s) runs a red and almost kills me, pardon fucking me if I have to pull over for a few minutes to collect myself, thus making your pizza 4 minutes later than the promised time.