Delivery story 74 Tim Connolly writes: I'm a delivery driver for Topper's Pizza in Ventura, CA. Admittedly, I haven't had to contend with some of the things that previous drivers have mentioned about delivering to crack houses, fearing for my life, dealing with drunks, etc. But I still have had my share of nimrods and tightwads over the last 6 1/2 months of being a delivery driver. It's getting to the point where I've actually thought up some witty comebacks for some of the people I've delivered to. (Not that I'd ever actually act them out, of course. At least, not until I'm going to quit anyway.) One of the most memorably bad deliveries I've ever made was to a man who lived in a condo on the east side of town. I was warned by a fellow driver that this guy was not only a light tipper, but not exactly the cleanest guy in the world. Well, he wasn't kidding. The ticket instructed me to deliver to his backyard. When I opened the gate, I saw a mound of trash on the patio. I turned towards the house and was greeted by the man's back. To say he was half-naked would be inaccurate -- it was more along the lines of 75%. He had an ample plumber's crack going, and it took everything I had not to recoil in repulsion. The man turns around to face me and I find that his front isn't any more pleasant than his rear. As he goes inside to get his money, I find that his house is basically one enclosed landfill, with piles of garbage all over the living room. And of course, my reward for this blight on my eyes? A buck. The good thing about our store is that we're more expensive that the chain stores, and this tends to attract a clientelle that's more interested in high-quality pizza and service than buying 5 pizzas for $10 at Domino's. (No offense to the Domino's drivers here, but since I've started working at my place I can barely stomach your food.) This in turn tends to detract cheapskates from placing orders from us. I keep track of every person that tips less than a dollar, and very rarely do I ever see them call in a second order. But there are a few people that I don't mind sharing with you as members of the Tightwad Hall of Shame. One time I made a delivery to the AT&T Wireless booth at the mall located about a block away. When I got there, the man asked for all his change back for a $12.23 order. I handed him $2 (he paid with $15) but he wanted exact change. I told him that I don't have the change and he pointed me to the Mrs. Field's Cookies store across the way to get his 77 cents. Oddly enough, there's a jewelry store right next to Mrs. Field's that orders from us often, and they tip well. Every time I deliver to them, I walk past the AT&T kiosk, ignoring their pleas for free pizza. Actually, if I wanted to be a real jerk, I'd go in there with my cell phone, pretend to dial a number, and say, "Hi Mom! I just got a new cell phone from Sprint. I was going to get it from AT&T but their salespeople are such tightwads they make me go into another store to get their exact change. I guess they missed out, huh?" Another member of the Hall of Shame involves a woman who works at a staffing company near the local hospital. She ordered a small pizza, a salad, and a six-pack of Diet Coke, totalling about $15. I got there, and the woman wrote a check for the exact amount, explaining, "I'd give you a tip, but I'm too poor." I almost wanted to offer to pay for the food myself. After all, if a $2 tip would send her into bankruptcy, I would hate to see her spend the last $15 of her net worth on pizza. She could pay me back when she gets enough money to move out of her office. The most recent member of the Hall of Shame happened just last night, as a matter of fact. They order with a credit card, so when I got there, I had my billing slip, my imprint slip, and a pen ready. When the ... um ... person (it was hard to tell what sex this person was) answered the door, s/he was gabbing on the phone. I handed him/her the billing slip and my pen. A few moments later, I got back the billing slip. All that was there was the signature. S/he didn't even bother filling out the Tip or the Total line. On top of that, s/he tried to snatch my pen. Luckily, that's how I do the imprint of the card, so I got it back after asking for it. (S/he'd put it in his/her shirt pocket, so it wasn't like s/he forgot the pen was mine. S/he still got away with the cap, though.) When I got back to the car, I noticed the blank lines for Tip and Total. Oooooooh, how tempted I was to write my own tip in there. I could've made that tightwad buy the most expensive pen cap ever made. Fortunately, better judgement took hold and I merely included his/her address to my list of tightwads. I'll end with one final thought. Is it just me, or does it seem like the ones who give mediocre-to-bad tips ($1 and under) are the ones who are most proud of themselves that they're tipping at all? Good tippers know it's expected of them to give an extra couple of bucks, so they don't make a big deal of it. But the ones who give me $15 for a $14.53 order are the ones who see me put their money in my pouch and blurt out, "Oh, you can go ahead and keep the change!" Like the 47 cents they've given me is some divine act of generosity. return to top