Delivery story 166 Jim writes: In 1993 I delivered pizza for one of the places that primarily serves the University of Scranton (locally known as "Da U") in Scranton, PA. Probably 75% of deliveries were to university students, 10% to the local hospitals, and the remaining 15% of the deliveries where scattered around the city. One night, I had a delivery to one of the more shady parts of our coverage area. It's not a ghetto per se, but it wasn't a place anyone would prefer. I knocked on the door and I saw, through a thin curtain covering the front window, a guy get up and get the money off the table next to him. "How organized," I thought. Well, it was actually a handgun he picked up off the table. And when he answered the door, the handgun was pointed at me. "Did you order a pizza?" He shook his head no. "Um. Is this 510 Whatever Street?" He shook his head no again. I apologized and went back to my car, happy that I had no new holes in me. When I got back to the store, I called the phone number on the receipt. It turns out the guy who took the order wrote down the wrong house number. I chewed him out a bit, then delivered the pizza to the right house. The guy wasn't happy that his pizza was cold and I got no tip. return to top