littleboxes
Lovely Linda with flowers in her hair
Here's an interview with long-time pizza delivery persons in minneapolis from City Pages. Here are a few excerpts.
On tipping:
I know a driver who got 85 bucks from Karl Malone. Proof that an asshole can be generous.
A decent tip is three dollars. If someone orders something that costs eight bucks, maybe two. But three bucks as a general rule. And if it's a big order, or it's cold outside, you have to treat me right. A four-dollar tip makes me feel good. A five-dollar tip says you really care.
On Drugs:
I'd say 30 to 40 percent of our customer base is high. Cooks, maybe 60 percent. Personally, I've just had three times where I went to work high. Once, when I was delivering to an address in deep south Minneapolis, I was just cruising along and listening to a tape before I realized that I was on 35W headed toward Bloomington.
I've been tipped in pot. One time I delivered to this girl on Hennepin Avenue, and she said, "Wanna come upstairs and smoke some pot and do some whip-its?" So I said okay, and hung out with her for about half an hour. But I get dyslexic when I smoke pot, so it's not very good for me. My math skills get poor.
For me, it's just a waste of a fucking buzz. It makes the shift go on too long. You've got to sit and listen to the people at work, asking all these weird questions. Being high around that sort of stuff is just too much for me. But if I worked at Domino's, I'd have to get fucking high just to put the outfit on.
On Sex:
It was the last run of the night, to this kind of low-rent apartment complex in the suburbs. I knock, and this chick in her early 30s opens this door. She was kind of good-looking but kind of trashy. And she was totally naked. She goes through this little bead wall, and says, "Come in for a second. I've got to get the money." So I walked through the bead wall, and she's sitting on the couch, and says, "Want a drink?" By then it's clear what's going on. She made me some kind of drink, and we smoked some pot. She's totally naked and I'm in my little pizza shirt, and she says, exact words, "Do you have time for a quickie?" I told her, "I've got to go back to close the shop but I could come back."
She says sure, so I went to the store, shut down, and came back. So I'm fucking her and then all of a sudden she says really loudly, "Hey, come on out." And this fat dude comes stumbling through the bead door, stark naked, stroking his hard-on. I got the hell out of there. Then I went home and took a long shower.
Mr. Brown: There is always someone waiting in the wings. The perverted puppeteer. It is an icky, icky world.
On tipping:
I know a driver who got 85 bucks from Karl Malone. Proof that an asshole can be generous.
A decent tip is three dollars. If someone orders something that costs eight bucks, maybe two. But three bucks as a general rule. And if it's a big order, or it's cold outside, you have to treat me right. A four-dollar tip makes me feel good. A five-dollar tip says you really care.
On Drugs:
I'd say 30 to 40 percent of our customer base is high. Cooks, maybe 60 percent. Personally, I've just had three times where I went to work high. Once, when I was delivering to an address in deep south Minneapolis, I was just cruising along and listening to a tape before I realized that I was on 35W headed toward Bloomington.
I've been tipped in pot. One time I delivered to this girl on Hennepin Avenue, and she said, "Wanna come upstairs and smoke some pot and do some whip-its?" So I said okay, and hung out with her for about half an hour. But I get dyslexic when I smoke pot, so it's not very good for me. My math skills get poor.
For me, it's just a waste of a fucking buzz. It makes the shift go on too long. You've got to sit and listen to the people at work, asking all these weird questions. Being high around that sort of stuff is just too much for me. But if I worked at Domino's, I'd have to get fucking high just to put the outfit on.
On Sex:
It was the last run of the night, to this kind of low-rent apartment complex in the suburbs. I knock, and this chick in her early 30s opens this door. She was kind of good-looking but kind of trashy. And she was totally naked. She goes through this little bead wall, and says, "Come in for a second. I've got to get the money." So I walked through the bead wall, and she's sitting on the couch, and says, "Want a drink?" By then it's clear what's going on. She made me some kind of drink, and we smoked some pot. She's totally naked and I'm in my little pizza shirt, and she says, exact words, "Do you have time for a quickie?" I told her, "I've got to go back to close the shop but I could come back."
She says sure, so I went to the store, shut down, and came back. So I'm fucking her and then all of a sudden she says really loudly, "Hey, come on out." And this fat dude comes stumbling through the bead door, stark naked, stroking his hard-on. I got the hell out of there. Then I went home and took a long shower.
Mr. Brown: There is always someone waiting in the wings. The perverted puppeteer. It is an icky, icky world.
posted by littleboxes at 1:42 PM
2 Comments:
Do you want anchovies with that pizza?
Very interesting post of the trials and tribulations of a pizza delivery personnel. Can you imagine the fun (sex) doctors had when they made house calls?
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