We'd effect tipping...

For my last foray into talking about my days as a driver for a well known pizza chain, I will now regale you with this:

In the heart of a large Southern city I was called upon to perform that duty I was signed up for... delivering the 'zas. I was still new, but others smiled at my next address and told me how lucky I was... this guy gives out tips of $20! Ah! Now I will score big money and perhaps be able to afford a new set of gaming dice, or... dare I dream?... a book.

To the Batmobile!

Off I went in delirious contemplation of a tip that could purchase a pizza in its own right! Such glory! $20 could buy 3 days groceries if I was reasonably frugal.

I arrived. The drive, as with a previous post, wasn't more than a few blocks, making this even more delightful. I adjusted my shirt and rang the doorbell.

Grumbling came from inside, and the stomping about reminded me of my father when I was doing something I really shouldn't. Which prepared me for...

The door opened and a fist came rocketing out. I have no idea what it was aiming for, but I reacted with cat-like reflexes, tossing the pizza unerringly to the side as the blow caught me in the shoulder and I spun and stumbled off of the sidewalk.

The door slammed. I still had the pizza, and I was decidedly not tipped. Well, perhaps in the way that a cow might get tipped, but not in any satisfactory way.

On the other hand, ringing the doorbell struck me as the height of foolishness.

So, I went to the nearest pay phone and called my boss, whose name was Tim.

Tim told me to try again. I lost a modicum of respect for the man at that moment, but I was not going to disobey, or suggest that he might kiss my pasty butt. Such thoughts were far from my mind.

I went back and rang the doorbell.

Grumbling could be heard inside. I considered the most prudent course of action was to hide.

To the side. In the bushes. While I heard stomping.

The door opened and the fist was projected, but I had a much more interesting perspective this time, and got to see a willowy fellow stumble over the lip of the door and look around in a confused manner.

"Damn kids," he muttered before I managed, nervously, "Did you order a pizza, sir?"

"Hunh? Damned if I know... hold on." Grumbling continued.

"You order a $%@! pizza?"

"What!?"

"God !>@3 it! Fine!"

He grumbled the rest of the way, making much more noise than his size would suggest. Definitely a "Cat-like tread" guy.

"Here!"

He crossed my palm with silver, and the pizza was his. I left, not entirely happy, but the tip had been in the area of $20 (I think it wound up being $18, since he gave me $40 and told me to keep the change, but maybe the cost of pizzas back then wasn't as high as I think).

I realize this isn't a "horror" story, and certainly not on the same level as the other one, but it's a very strong memory that I like to share with others.