Notes from the pizza run

Some sage observations from my two month career as a pizza delivery man.

• There are lots and lots of houses with invisible addresses.
  (Can’t see them after dark, numbers have fallen off, etc.).  Come on, people.
• When you finally find your destination, in the dark, down a narrow dusty road in the middle of the bush, it’s a good idea not to get out of the car.  Flash your lights and honk your horn if necessary.  They will eventually come out, along with their four trusty hounds.
• Do not always trust Google.
• If a statuesque blonde answers the door, clad in nothing but a towel, struggle to maintain eye contact and keep a straight face.  Even if she says “Hi, Pizza Man!”
• If, when the door opens, some funny smelling smoke drifts out, be prepared for  semantic difficulties.  (One customer could barely speak, then left me standing there for five minutes while he went to find his phone, thinking he could use his banking app to pay.  Then didn’t know how to use it.)
• If you have the option of not putting the pizza sign on your car, don’t.  It makes it less uncomfortable if you have to pull any slightly illegal moves on the road.
• Squirrels are notoriously poor decision makers.

I’ve enjoyed the ambiance of working in a busy well run establishment.  The exuberant repartee of the mostly young crew.  Their forgiveness of neophyte mistakes.  The hugs they give one another when they leave for the night.  The absence of any prejudice, within a crew of different races.  Just people talking to people working with people.

• The pay stinks, but I think I’ll stay.