Memoirs of a Domino’s delivery man

Rose Gendelman, Staff Writer

Today was a better day than most. Deliveries have left me with a permanent garlic smell lingering on my fingers, which prevents me from scoring many dates, but I enjoy it most of the time.

I had five different orders to deliver to the nearby campus today. Three of which were people slurring every word while the people around them shouted profanities. That never gets old. The two others seemed pretty normal, aside from the fact I could smell the weed through the phone.

I arrive on campus to deliver their orders, yet 40 percent of the time (yes, it was worth my time to do the math) they don’t answer their phones when I call with their delivery because they’ve already fallen asleep. You’d think drunk people would want pizza badly enough to stay awake, but I’ve learned quite quickly that that is simply not the case.

Those who do answer try to strike up casual conversation with me, attempting sobriety, which is entirely unnecessary. Why would I be judging you for being drunk? That’s one of the major reasons Domino’s is so successful.

One time, a kid offered me a hit of his blunt. I check my watch: 2 a.m., I’ll be done in 30 minutes.

“Eh, why not?”

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