The Yankees trade Jay Buhner, minor league prospect Rich Balabon, and a player to be named later (Troy Evers) to the Mariners in exchange for 33-year-old Ken Phelps. The one-sided deal will be immortalized on Seinfield by Frank Costanza, George’s dad, when he laments the Bronx Bombers’ poor judgment, “How could you have traded Buhner for Ken Phelps?”.
New York Yankees manager Casey Stengel looks to his players Billy Martin and Bill Skowron during a spring training game on March 14, 1956 at Huggins Field in St. Petersburg, Fla. Stengel, who won nine pennants in 10 years and seven world championships as manager of the Bronx Bombers, was born 125 years ago on July 30, 1890. (Hy Peskin for SI)
TalesFromThePizzaGuy: "No. Absolutely not. Get out now."
Hi there! I work as a delivery guy for a tiny, hole-in-the-wall New York style pizza joint in downtown Greenville, SC. Because the manager/owner doesn’t ever work in the shop or know how to run a business, at any given time we only have 3 employees. Me, our chef, and a second delivery guy. The fact that I’m currently by a fair amount the longest working employee there, including our chef, should say a lot about the management. That said, it’s damn good pizza.
We offer two sizes for our pies, 16" and 20". (Quick aside: “How many slices on each of those?” Is a dumbass question. It’s a circle, lady, I can cut it into as many slices as you want. The 16" feeds 2-3 and the 20", 4-5. “Yeah, but how many slices.” Eye roll.) on a rare occasion, someone will order our Bronx Bomber, a 28" monstrosity of a pizza. Usually folks will come and pick it up, and go on their way, but sometimes, once in a blue moon, it’s a delivery. I’ve got no problem with delivery, I get paid cash, so driving is much better than being behind the counter. However, I drive a 2002 4-door Chevy pickup truck, which, aside from throwing the box in the truck bed, doesn’t really fit a 28-inch box. Regardless, I set it on top of the headrests, driving through downtown traffic with one hand and holding the pizza upright and horizontal with the other.
Then I get to the destination. It’s a steakhouse right in the middle of the city. Fine, I’ve delivered to restaurant staff before, they’re typically friendly and tip well, so I’m not bothered. The valet helps me find a spot, I walk inside, and bring the pie into the front of the steakhouse, making sure not to get in the way of anyone. I ask the hostess where I should go with the pizza, and she gives me a blank stare.
“I didn’t know someone ordered a pizza.”
Huh. I guess the person who ordered it just never told anyone else they ordered a pizza, in a huge steakhouse, in the middle of a busy Friday night. Then the cherry on top. A woman approaches me who I assume is the manager, and I’m thinking she either ordered the pie, or knows who did and will help me out. Nope. She starts physically pushing me out the door, saying “No. Absolutely not. Get out now.” Et cetera, et cetera.
The upshot is that a very friendly waitress led me downstairs to the kitchen to find out who ordered the pie, figure out where to put it, and even went so far as to tip me generously with cash out of her own tips.
Moral of the story: if you work at a fancy restaurant, let the other employees know if you order a giant pizza while on shift. Also, if you’re that steakhouse manager, up yours, you could’ve asked nicely.
“It doesn’t seem like Sunday up here because you two do not drop in. I am studying hard & also having a good time - but I’ll be glad when vacation comes. Take it easy in all the heat. Love - Katherine” New York, NY Postmarked 1931