pizza get here already

TalesFromThePizzaGuy: Harry Potter and the Tale of the Multiplying Orders.

So I get called in to close tonight since the closing driver is out sick. A little weird since I worked with him on Monday but whatever. Probably hung over from Fourth of July.

Mind you that I haven’t had a day off since I came back from Europe. I landed Wednesday, got called in Thursday, worked my scheduled days Friday through Tuesday, and got called in today. Luckily I SHOULD be off tomorrow.


I’m coming in as closing driver on a Wednesday. Nothing too bad, right? It’s pretty nice for the time I’m there, two of my buddies are the other drivers, the girl my manager is banging is cooking, it’s great. It’s slow, but I’m still getting good tips.

I take my second order. It was supposed to go to my buddy but he forgot to tag in and when he fixed it he was like “nah man you take it, my AC is broken and it’s really hot, I don’t wanna be in my car if I don’t have to be”

I took it, wonderful group of people. They asked me how my day was going. I said “I don’t know yet, seems good! This is my first (you gotta make people feel special) delivery of the day, I’m closing!”

“Oh nice! Good luck with that man!”

I wish I could have truly understood how much luck I needed today.

8:30 is the time. It’s slow enough that my manager sends the last driver that isn’t me home. I’m expecting to get a few deliveries, but nothing amazing. So there’s a double on the screen. Pretty easy. 60 minute wait, easy money.

Vroom Vroom

It’s about 9:00. Another double. As I’m walking out a third order pops up, so I figure I’ll come back, take that guy, and be done.

Vroom Vroom

why the fuck don’t people give me gate codes

Vroom Vroom

I’m back.

Somehow in the time it took me to take those deliveries, a total of 8 orders popped into the computer. And not a clean 8 orders either, these were all over the map and wouldn’t be something I could take in one go without some shit sitting in my car for hours.

I look at my manager. I look slightly downward because she’s very short.

She looks up at me, with a look of genuine anger in her eyes. Not anger at me, anger at the world. I would learn later that she had just read a text from my GM, with the words

“lol it happens”

She asks me to help out with the front. Me, being the customer maniac that I am, decide to do that and completely ignore the orders that were waiting. Besides, our wait time gave us some leeway on when the pizzas could get there. This turned out to be one of the best decisions I made in the night.

There is a constant stream of people entering, all wanting various pizza products. I genuinely have no fucking clue why this is happening. There’s no parties, no events, no reason to be out in the middle of Smallsville at 10:00 PM. We’re next to a… i don’t know what to call it but it’s essentially like 30 alienware computers and you pay $4 an hour to use the computers and they have like a shitton of games on them. Maybe there’s some gaming thing? idk, my girlfriend is the gamer, I mostly just play when I can.

So I’m taking these peoples orders, hamming it up because I am a fully roasted ham, giving out the pizzas with very little issues, until I get to about the fifth person in line.

It’s an older woman. I look at the screen. Every name is for a guy, but who knows.

“How do you get to [city that’s an hour away]” she says

I’m awestruck. I’ve gotten a few people asking for directions before. Usually it was to point people towards the nearest grocery store, or I think one time I told someone how to get to the race track.

So I give her my best pizza hut customer maniac answer.

“Yeah it’s like an hour away”

Crisis not averted.

“Well how do I get there.”

Some people would have, at this point, said “I don’t know” or “It’s really far” or “Ma'am we have 8 fucking orders and there’s South American Sasuke Uchicha standing behind you in line, I don’t have time for this shit”

But I am a fucking dumbass.

“Oh, okay, let me look it up for you!” I say as I pull out my phone. Directions to [city] yadda yadda it’s really fucking far. The hallmark of our location though is that it’s right by the onramp to a major freeway, This freeway leads to 2 other major freeways almost instantly, so it’s fantastic to get pretty much anywhere. So I kinda lead her in the general direction.

“So how do I get there”

“Oh! You just take the Z-69 South!”

It’s pretty easy to get to. Like, you literally get out of the parking lot, make a right, and follow the sign for about 30 seconds before it says “Z-69 SOUTH!!!!!!! WOOHOO!!!!!”

I’m not going to spend a lot of time explaining how this conversation went but imagine it like the video where people are trying to convince this guy to leave his car during a flood and he’s just confused and dazed and is doing stupid shit.

This eventually lead me to walk out of the store with her (aka. My clever plan to get her the fuck out of there), and recite this phrase.

“OKAY. SO. fingers pointed with directional customer service passion YOU GO CHOO CHOO OUT OF THE PARKING LOT points to the streelight YOU GO RIGHT HERE. VROOM VROOM. YOU SEE TWO STREET LIGHTS. BING. BONG. pointing to the visible street lights as I bing and bong AND THEN YOU GET ON THE FREEWAY.”

Her response.

“… so I make a left?”

Somehow I managed to get her on her way. (read: I said “I wrote everything down, hope you find your way” and ran back inside). I look at Mexican-American Danny Zuko and tell him

“Pardon my french, but what the fuck was that shit”

I think maybe 5 minutes had passed. He just wanted his 8 piece of bone-out wings. Luckily he was chill, and the rest of the customers went fine.

Then I remembered “wait a second im the closing fucking driver”

After essentially shit-talking out GM for a minute, we figured it was time to rip the band-aid off and deliver some very late pizzas. Luckily enough only 1 pizza ended up being dispatched late since we bumped up our delivery time to 120.

I found out that this would work in the best way. I’d take 3 that were below us, driver back to the store, and take the 4 that were above us, and then come back and take the 1 that was in the gates of hell that we honestly shouldn’t deliver to.

So I take the three first. Nothing noteworthy, except that I hate trailer parks because the only labeling they have is black lettering with no light, but meh.

I get back and get ready to take the other four. Help out a few carryout customers first, good stuff, no crazy wanderers walking around, got a $1 tip, good shit.

There’s a phone call. Generally during these times, my favorite manager would employ a strategy called “fuck it they can fucking wait we’re busy as shit”

This is not my favorite manager.

So I answer the phone. It’s someone who sounds like their mouth is filled with the Chinese knock-off version of George Washington’s Teeth, talking about how the call center transferred them to us because we had a 120 minute wait.

So I informed her “yes that is a a thing”

“so can you still deliver the pizza”

I look at my manager. My manager shakes her head no, knowing what I’m gonna ask.

“no. We can do carryout though”

“Okay tha-”

“I need your order”

The order proceeds as normal, and I tell her “if you want your pizza you gotta get here before 11”

“Oh I’m already on my way”

Not having the time to contemplate why she decided to ask for delivery when she’s driving straight to our store, I hung up and got the four orders to take around the top part of our delivery area. It’s not the CLEANEST run (Imagine the literal Northwest and Northeast corners of our delivery area.) but it’s the best I can do.

People must be feeling the power of Jesus Christ or something because even as I showed up 20 minutes late, I still got hefty tips. It was fantastic. Plus 3 of the 4 orders were cash, so it consisted of “Here you go, keep the change, bye”

The fourth one was the last one I took.

I pull up to the house and someone’s pulling in the driveway. completely unrelated, they’re like “yeah someone else ordered it.”

A child answers the door. Fuck. The child gets the receipt and single pizza and runs inside. There’s a little puppy at the door so I say some weird ass white people shit to him while also making sure he doesn’t run away.

This went on for about 3 minutes as I peek inside and see what’s going on. It’s going around some more with just kind of normal household chatter until I hear.

“Wait, you’re not going to tip him?!”

“What? Why?!”

“Dude, you gotta tip him! You always gotta tip the driver”

Thank you un-named resident of the household of order #111. I thank you for your $3 generosity (the lowest tip I got on that quad but whatever)

So I run back, fucking dying as I’d taken about 7 deliveries in the time that it takes me to do about 4.

But there’s the last order.

I zoom back, mentally preparing for the 30 minute trek round trip there. I whimper, I cry, I sob.

“Oh yeah I cancelled it lol”

That day, this manager became my favorite.

All I had to do cleaning-wise was mop (aka: wipe the dirty spots because we’re both tired as shit and we can do a deep cleaning mop tomorrow), and then I was out only an hour after closing.

I made $102.69

By: CDFReditum

anonymous asked:

picture this: dean the chubby bachelor is sitting at home one friday night when he decides to order pizza. lots of pizza. and breadsticks. and when the hot young single and mildy chubby pizza delivery man shows up at deans place, it would only be right for dean to invite this man in (spoiler: his name is cas) to eat every single piece of pizza and breadstick with him

idk if u meant this to be a prompt but i’m fucking writing it anyway

It’s frustrating being in a new city with a new job and not knowing a single person in town other than that creepy guy in the condo next door. Sure, Dean’s not opposed to sitting home alone on a Friday night watching old Clint Eastwood movies—god knows he didn’t feel guilty about it in college—but he could really use some company right now.

Or maybe he’s just hungry. He heaves a sigh and scratches his empty stomach, calculates the time it should take for the pizza guy to get here already. The last thing he ate was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as a snack like two hours ago, and this beer is really not doing much to fill him up. He rubs his hand up under his t-shirt and pinches his skin a little. He stopped calling himself “chubby” during his senior year of college and decided to man up and admit that he’s fat now. It’s really not a big deal. Yeah, the doctor says he should watch his weight, but his blood pressure is surprisingly good and he can still bench 290 (which is 30 pounds more than he weighs, thank you very much). His stomach makes a sad gurgling noise in hunger.

Finally, there’s a knock on his door, and Dean all but skips to get it. God, he’s a cliche.

“Good evening. I have a large thick crust meat lover’s pizza, a side of breadsticks and another side of cinnamon sticks with extra icing?”

Dean laughs and scratches the back of his neck subconsciously before taking the food from the guy. They never read out the order like that. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, man.”

“It’s my pleasure. Hosting a party?”

Dean’s so excited about the pizza that he stupidly says, “Nope. It’s just for me. I mean, I, uh—”

But the guy just cuts him off with a soft laugh. “It’s OK. I ate a large pizza in half an hour just three days ago.”

That’s not what he expected to hear, and he can’t help his eyes from roaming over the guy. His red polo is tight against his belly and is tucked into khaki pants that are probably a size or two too small. He’s not nearly as big as Dean, but he’s definitely sporting a pretty solid muffin top.

“Um. Is there anything else I can do for you…?”

“Oh! Right, um, sorry. Here.” Dean shoves some cash at his chest. “Uh, keep the change. And thanks.”

“Thank you. Enjoy your pizza and breadsticks. And cinnamon sticks.”

The guy turns to leave, and Dean gets a nice view of the way his ass fills out his pants. On impulse, Dean calls, “Hey! What’s your name?”

He turns and tilts his head as he answers, “Cas.”

“Do you, uh–when do you get off work?”

Cas turns to look at his car and then turns back to Dean. “You were my last stop.”

“Do you want to, um, you know–this is a lot of food, and I…”

Cas grins and walks back up to the front door. “You sure you have enough for the both of us?”

Dean ducks his chin to hide his blush. “No, but…”

Cas pushes his way past him and makes himself at home on Dean’s couch, even going so far as to grab the remote and press play before Dean has even closed the door. This guy apparently doesn’t know boundaries.

“Beer?” Dean calls from the kitchen as he gets plates and napkins.

“Yeah. What’s your name, by the way?”


“It’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

It’s awkward when Dean comes into the living room and tries to decide where to sit in relation to Cas. However, he doesn’t really have a lot of time to think about it before Cas scoots over and grabs the pizza box out of his hand and sets it on the couch cushion between them. He doesn’t even bother with a plate or napkins and decides instead to shove half a piece in his mouth at once.

“Been at work since 2. The smell’s been driving me nuts all day,” he explains with his mouth full.

Dean just shrugs and piles three pieces on his plate.

They spend the next few minutes eating their pizza in silence, and before they know it the box is empty.

“Damn it,” Dean announces as he shoves the last bit of crust in his mouth.

“There’s still breadsticks,” Cas says confidently, reaching for the coffee table to grab said breadsticks.

They plow through those, too, and then suddenly the cinnamon sticks are gone, too, and Dean’s licking the leftover icing off his finger and really wishing he hadn’t shared his food because his stomach is nowhere near full enough yet.

Cas sets all the empty boxes on the coffee table and sits back with a groan. “You didn’t order enough.”

“Oh well excuse me, I didn’t realize I would have company.”

Cas laughs, and Dean is mesmerized with the way his stomach shakes. “It would be disgraceful if we ordered more pizza from the place of my employment.”

“It would be disgraceful if neither of us gets more food in our stomachs tonight.” It takes two tries for Dean to get up off the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“Geez, relax. I’m seeing what I have in the kitchen.”

Cas ends up joining him at the fridge, and they stand around talking and snacking on chips and ice cream and fucking Nature Valley bars until the button of Cas’ pants flies off while he’s finishing a can of Pringles.

“Well, that was bound to happen eventually,” Cas says in resignation.

“Damn, I was looking forward to doing that myself.” Shit. What did he just say.

But Cas just squints and steps foward until he’s in Dean’s personal space. Then he reaches under Dean’s belly and finds his belt buckle without breaking eye contact. Dean tries not to squirm, but then he forgets everything when Cas undoes his pants because his gut drops free and it feels fucking awesome.

“Fuller than you thought you were, huh?” Cas asks, digging his fingers into Dean’s fat. There’s surprisingly a lot of give in his skin despite the fact that he’s beyond full, and that really just emphasizes how big he’s gotten lately.

“Mm-hmm.” Dean closes his eyes and reaches for Cas’ waist. He pulls him forward until their stomachs bump.

“So are we going to kiss or–”

Dean shuts Cas up by pulling his face to his for a sloppy kiss. 

“Stay over. I’ll make breakfast.”

“You’re getting free pizza from now on.”