Friends…
It’s been a while.
But I have exciting news!
I’ve recently replaced my second job with another… second job.
Lame, I know, but the oppressive corporate structure and monotonous cleaning tasks of an obscenely purple Planet Fitness finally got to me. Full disclosure, I’m really not a big fan of the color purple. Or people. Or cleaning up after people while in a giant purple building. The pay was shit and if I had to wipe the sun tan lotion imprint of an obese human’s ass cheeks off that damn tanning bed one more time, I was going to – as the kids say – crash the fuck out.
So, I ditched those losers and got a part-time job that is much more in line with my skill set. A job where I can be truly appreciated and understood. A place where the sun always shines and happiness flutters down from the sky like a graceful god damn butterfly.
Behold!
I have become…
A pizza delivery driver.
I know, I know. How could I be so lucky? What god of fortune and abundance bestowed such an honor upon me? Well, actually, I just walked up to the owner after my wife and I smashed some of his tasty za’ and handed him my resume.
He looked at it.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
He said, “You’re overqualified.”
To which I responded, “I know!”
And thus, a star was born. I’m zipping around town slinging pizzas left and right. Like the Pizza Planet driver from Toy Story amped up to eleven. It’s great. I’m really enjoying it. Family-owned little place. Typical emotionally unstable and erratic kitchen staff running things. Some questionable activities and conversations going on back there that would make an HR generalist lose sleep. It’s safe to say that I’m in my freakin’ element, my dudes.
Having said all that, I’d like to tell you all a story. A riveting account with unexpected twists and turns. Truly, a Pulitzer-winning account of my glory days in the trenches. A story full of excitement and adventure.
A tale about Coffee! And pizza! And underpaid employees! And fire!
Mostly in that order…
Years ago, when I was deeply entrenched in the food service world, I happened to be the store manager of a coffee shop. This coffee shop was part of a much larger company. A company that has many coffee shops. Coffee shops that might all have a certain aesthetic and iconic branding. Coffee shops that seem to be everywhere. Arguably one of the largest global coffee chains on the planet…
Side note: It’s not often that I choose not to mention the names of certain companies directly when I write, but these people scare me. Their reach is wide and I’ve seen just how intimidating the corporate legal team can be. So, I’ll have to assume you all can infer which coffee company I’m talking about, but it definitely doesn’t almost rhyme with nunchucks…
Oh, wait…
Shit.
Anyway.
Throughout my time in this world, I met a lot of great people, had some great experiences, learned a tremendous amount, and really grew as a professional. Overall, it was awesome. The pay and the benefits were top notch. And, most importantly, the higher ups really did strive to provide a good work-life balance. I once had my district manager force me to take a day off after I’d worked six days in a row. I shit you not, friends, this absolute gangster of a boss saw me struggling with an understaffed store I had just taken over and made arrangements so I could chill at home for a day. Legendary guy, that one.
Most of us know what it looks like when we go through a busy restaurant or café during the rush hour. Observant customers might notice how wild that shit looks behind the counter when a place is hopping. Any of you friends that have ever worked food service can surely relate. When it’s go time in the kitchen, a properly motivated team is all hands on deck and not to be trifled with. If I was selecting people to join my zombie apocalypse survival group, I would damn sure give preferential treatment to the food service crowd. No question.
Our story focuses on the best team I ever managed to cobble together. I’m not sure where I managed to find all these people. Several months after taking over the café that I would spend my last few years managing, I had hired, fired, trained, and promoted the dream roster. My starting eleven. The A-team. My espresso fueled customer service commando squad of doom. Truly, a group of ruthlessly efficient industry professionals.
Life was good.
One of the perks of running a busy café is the ability to use the company credit card. Not on anything really cool, like strippers and cocaine, but I could spend some company money where appropriate for things like office supplies or unforeseen necessities. I could also use the card for fun treats and special surprises for my team.
One of my team’s most preferred forms of me showing my appreciation for them was using the company card to buy food. Yes, friends, the age-old tradition of rewarding other humans with a pizza party cannot be denied. If it works for 8-year-old school children when they read enough books or whatever, it damn sure works for stressed out hipsters working in a coffee shop.
After a busy quarter and some impressive results from my stalwart coffee warriors, I decided to surprise the team with some food from our favorite local pizza place. Whatever they wanted. Sky’s the limit, kids!
Well, within reason, anyway. Big man still has to explain the receipts to the higher ups, after all.
My crew put their multi-colored hair and quirky bespectacled heads together and decided on something a bit unusual. You see, the chosen pizza place didn’t just have awesome pies. They also had (and I will die on this hill like a Vietnam draft victim) the best breadsticks on the planet, hands down. Seriously, some kind of blood sacrifice must have happened along the way for this restaurant to have created such an exquisite breadstick recipe.
The team wanted all breadsticks. No pizza. Just dough rolled into logs and baked to perfection.
Sure. Why the hell not? Doesn’t matter to me, gang. Go wild.
I called up the place and ordered a comical amount of these things. The poor worker who answered the phone had to double check that I did, indeed, want such an obscene amount of breadsticks and nothing else.
Don’t question it, lady. Gotta give the people what they want.
The delivery driver arrived. I had already paid with that shiny, aforementioned company credit card, but as a fellow service worker I tipped him generously and we all went on about our day.
Breadstick party: Initiate!
Life was good. The crew was laughing and joking. Everyone was chomping away on their well-deserved, if not unconventional, reward when disaster struck. From the back side of the table came a thin, nasally cry.
“Oh. My. Gawd. Look at this!”
We gathered around her cracked phone screen and observed in horror as a livestream of the very same pizza establishment we had just patronized lit up the screen. There, in all its glory and splendor, was the legendary breadstick factory completely engulfed in flames.
Fire trucks were on the scene. Bystanders looked on. A man tumbled out of the crumbling structure and rolled across the ground, violently aflame. Okay, not that last part. Nobody actually got hurt. But that shit was about as on fire as it could possibly be.
A hushed silence fell over the group. Accusing eyes stared hard at me.
We all were thinking it…
They knew it. I knew it. We could feel it down in our jimmies.
We ordered too many god damn breadsticks. We were responsible. Maybe one got caught in the chimney and super-heated until it exploded like a log on a campfire? Maybe the sheer madness of producing so many breadsticks finally caused a disgruntled worker to snap and burn the whole operation down.
The world may never know… But I’ll carry the weight of these actions with me until the day I die…
Luckily, the situation isn’t that deep. They rebuilt the place and opened for business a few months later. Still putting out the best breadsticks on the planet. Still have some badass pizza. And now, I can atone for my sins by zipping around town delivering pizzas as my second job at the very same establishment.
Funny how the world works sometimes. Circle of life and all that…
Thanks for reading.
I’m still a little surprised that people actually want to read these things, but I’m grateful for every subscriber, comment, and share.
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See you in the next one.
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