It doesn't matter which side of the car you're on. Whether you're in it on the way to deliver food, or handing an order into one, there's one thing that's for sure: working customer service can really, really suck. But these delivery drivers and drive-thru employees have seen the very worst that humanity has to offer. From rude Karens to total creeps, these tales of delivery & drive-thru nightmares are sure to make you appreciate that they had to deal with these horrible people and you didn't.
I was working the second drive-thru window at McDonald's. An order came up on the screen for three large unsweet teas. One of the girls I was working with said, "It's the teddy bear guy! Don't let him touch you!" I was confused, but didn't think much of it until the driver came up to the window. It was an old man in a big, navy blue van.
He smelled like he hadn't showered in days. I greeted him and handed him the tea. He reached out with his hand and I nearly gagged at the sight of his long, yellow fingernails. I took special care to not touch him at all. After I handed out the third tea, I turned around to tend to another order, when the same girl said, "Look now!"
I turned around as he drove away, and I saw a giant teddy bear in his back seat. It was honestly one of the most bizarre and terrifying things to happen to me in my life.
One night I have a delivery to a pretty rural area. A lot of my deliveries are to rural areas, so no big deal. But tonight it's drizzling and especially dark, so I'm having trouble finding the address of the house I'm looking for. So I roll down the passenger window and use my (really bright) flashlight, pointing it at mailboxes/trees/posts/anything that somebody might have their address on at the end of their driveway.
So I'm driving along at like five miles an hour, pointing my flashlight, when the beam catches a guy wearing a black hoodie at the end of an obviously long gravel road. He’s staring directly at me. More of a glare at me, really. But whatever, he could just be on the phone or something. Then it gets weirder. I finally find the address I'm looking for, pull into the drive, and hop out of the car.
That's when I get the sinking feeling. No cars, no house light, boarded-up windows. If you've ever been a delivery person, you know that this is the time to get out of there because you're about to get robbed. Right as I'm about to jump in, throw the car into reverse, and nope the heck out of there, I see a man walking across the empty field adjacent to the property towards me.
Dear God. Now, I'm a pretty burly, bearded dude, so I don't worry a whole lot on deliveries, but this scared the heck out of me. When he gets closer, I see him very obviously tucking something into his waistband. He then says in a thick, menacing southern accent, "I thought you was the law," I guess because of how I was scanning the addresses.
I meekly point to my car topper and the pizza in my hand, and he says in the nicest voice you've ever heard, "Oh, great! Thank you so much! Have a great night!" He pays me, and proceeds to walk back through the open field, in the direction of no buildings, in the rain, with his pizza. For the rest of my shift I couldn't stop whispering "What. The. Heck.” Strangest thing that's ever happened to me.
I was working at a Taco John's in high school. It was Halloween night. The beeper went off to let me know that there was a car out there. I pressed the button and said, "Welcome to Taco John's, can I take your order please?" I heard some muffled swearing and panicked sounds. Then nothing. I couldn't see the menu board from where I was, so I walked to the back of the store, opened the back door…and what do I see?
A car on top of the menu board. The guy was frantically trying to rip his license plates off, and a woman was yelling at him. The guy then took off, leaving his girlfriend there—but that’s not the funniest part. We call the authorities. The officers saw the car and the girlfriend, then said, "Oh yeah, Deano. We know where to pick him up. Sorry about the menu board. I guess your drive-thru is closed for the night."
We had a guy and two girls order separately. The order was about $100. The girls had picked the food up and left while the guy was paying. After 30 seconds, the guy bolted. My manager, who was a frequent gym-goer, leaped over the counter and gave chase. The two girls had gotten into a car with the food, but when they saw my manager, they drove off, leaving the guy.
My manager chased him three blocks and was gaining on him when the girls pulled up, and the guy got into the car. But there was something they didn’t know. They hadn’t recognized this guy working in the back—and he went to school with them. We had their names, jobs, addresses, and Facebook accounts. We contacted them all on Facebook and made them regret it.
We threatened to call the authorities, got them to pay for the pizzas the next morning, and put them on the no delivery list. Hope it was worth it!
This is the perfect chance to talk about the high grandma I had during an overnight at McDonald’s in Canada. It was just a normal late night and we were completely quiet at 2:30 am in the morning. There were no cars, so me and a co-worker were just cleaning our stations. Then from the hedges beside our restaurant, we just see lights shine through and hear cracking.
That’s when we see a car burst through the hedges. The car turns into the corner at our drive-thru, does a U turn and we think that it’s coming to our window. Nope. Instead, it drives around the back of our McDonald’s to go into the drive-thru the proper way. The driver orders a bottle of water like nothing unusual happened and then just carries on normally.
No one believed us until we got a manager to pull up the security footage. It was poor footage and barely showed the entire thing but you could still see the car enter, which was all you really needed. It then pulls up a few seconds later. I’ve been there a year and have been working the drive-thru since I started and this is still the funniest thing I’ve seen.
It’s either that or the guys who came through with cardboard and bike wheels and tried to order their food in a makeshift foot car.
I was a manager at BK for a few years. It was a terrible job but it definitely had its moments. One of the strangest was when a guy pulled up to the drive-thru and wanted to know if he could have "extra patties" on his Whopper. I told him, "Yes, certainly you may have more patties. How many?" He retorted, "Eight please, with cheese, bacon, and lots of ketchup."
I remember it cost around $28 and I had to tape two burger wraps together to wrap it up. It was heavy and greasy. So he pulled up and he was maybe 140 lbs.; a skinny dude. He looked at the burger, then asked me while smiling: "Wanna watch me eat?" That was the hardest "No" I've ever said because I was not about to throw up seeing the little fella devour this huge Whopper.
Afterward, I pondered his reasoning behind such a request. Fresh out of prison?
I was a Jimmy John's delivery driver. One night, one of our drivers came back from an apartment saying the guy was only wearing a winter hat and boots. The driver was known for telling crazy stories, many of which were not believable. A few weeks later, the guy ordered again. The driver from the last time recognized the address and said he wasn't going back.
My manager asked me to take the food and said if he wasn't wearing clothes, to tell him he either needed to wear clothes for us to continue to deliver or call elsewhere for food. I got there, and the front door had a window in it. I saw he was wearing a t-shirt and nothing else. I knocked on the door. The guy looked out the window and saw I was a woman.
He started frantically searching for something to cover himself up with. He settled on using his hands. Once he opened the door, I handed him the pen and receipt and repeated what my manager had told me. Once he handed me the receipt, I walked away. He never ordered from us again.
This older woman pulled up at around 9-10 PM, close to closing time. She had a baby teacup chihuahua in her hand that was wearing a sash and a tilted pink plastic tiara. She talked a bit of nonsense, then after I found her order in the system, I went to grab her card/cash, but instead, she held out the dog. Like, just held it out there.
It looked like she was about to drop it so I grabbed it. After holding it for a few moments, completely flabbergasted, she explained she’s selling them for fifty bucks a pup. Trying to be polite, I lied and said I’d have to talk to my parents about it, gave her the dog, had her pay for her order, and sent her on her way.
It was the weirdest encounter, to this day, next to some lady that asked me to find someone to help her move. I ended up doing that myself with my dad’s help. She was a complete hot mess with problems out the wazoo.
I was working at a McDonald's drive-thru in a small town in Michigan when this truck came through, paid, and then pulled forward to get its meal. Then out of nowhere, a chicken jumped out of the back of the truck. I yelled for the next car in line to stop, but she looked confused. That's when things went from weird to horrific. She ended up running over the chicken.
It wasn’t gone, but it was a wreck. She looked at me and we were both in tears. Then she said she had to and I said "no". She ignored me, put the truck in reverse and backed over the chicken again. I was in disbelief and couldn’t believe what I saw, so another employee had to get a shovel and scoop up the chicken from the drive-thru lane.
I've been a pizza delivery driver for several years, and today is the first day I legitimately feel ashamed of doing what I do. This story may not seem to be a huge deal to some people, since it's probably more of me being socially inept when it comes to a big audience and being recorded and not being comfortable with my singing voice. So I may be overreacting, but I can't shake this feeling of humiliation.
Since I was a kid, I've always been pretty shy. Even among close friends I'm somewhat quiet, and I am absolutely terrible at speaking in front of large crowds. I remember in high school having nightmares for weeks about having to do an upcoming presentation, and I would be dreading doing it every day until the day of. Not only that, but I'm a terrible singer, and I know it.
I don't even feel comfortable singing in front of friends and family. Which brings me to the actual story. I had a delivery today with a note written in the “special instructions” section that said, "Sing a Christmas carol for a tip." I didn't really take it all that seriously, and figured they were just joking. And if they weren't, I thought of a corny line to say while driving there to hopefully satisfy them if they were serious.
So I show up and it's some kind of small party going on. There's probably roughly 10-15 teenagers gathered around in the living room and the mom comes to the door and takes the pizzas (there were six larges) as I give her the receipt to sign. She then looks at me with a smile and goes, "So did they tell you?!? Me: "Haha, oh the note? Yeah I saw that, but trust me, you don't want to hear me sing."
Her: "Oh come on, you have to!" She then ushers me inside and closes the door behind me. All of the people there are watching me and already have their phones out recording me. I instantly get uncomfortable and want to leave as quickly as possible. An audience is one thing, but being recorded by multiple people will instantly make me feel anxious. It all went downhill from here.
Her: "Well go on, sing!" Me: "No really, I'm a terrible singer. I'm sure I will ruin your Christmas!" By the way, Christmas is still several weeks away, I have no idea why they wanted a Christmas carol so badly. Her: "OH COME ON. I'll make it worth your while." She said this as she waved a 20 and a 5 in front of me. I continued to insist on being a terrible singer and not being comfortable with it, but she kept pushing.
Eventually I decided to try my corny line and hoped it would satisfy them. So I just said, "Okay, how about, rub-a-dub-dub I brought you some grub!" Which was corny as heck and SO cringey to say and made me feel infinitely more uncomfortable. Obviously, no one laughed, and she went, "No, it has to be a Christmas carol!" I insisted more about not wanting to sing and was starting to get seriously annoyed and uncomfortable that she wasn't taking no for an answer.
She kept waving the money in front of my face to “encourage” me, so finally I just said, "Look, I'm sorry but I'm not going to sing for money." She looked at me incredulously for a second and went "Woooooooooowwwww. It was only for fun you know. Well, you're definitely not getting this then," she said as she pulled the 20 away and only gave me the 5 and the receipt she had signed.
I said thank you and quickly left, while I heard several comments behind me from everyone else like: "Wow, is he serious? What a jerk," "Ugh, gross," "Wow, did he really have to make us feel so bad?" So yeah. It's just being pressured to sing which I guess should just be fun, but I've never felt so used and humiliated while working here.
I legitimately feel ashamed to be working a minimum wage job now, and truly feel like I'm on the lowest rung of the ladder in society. I was just a tool for their entertainment that they thought would jump at the chance to make a fool of myself for an extra 20 bucks. I'm a pizza delivery driver, not a freaking performer or a circus monkey.
When I was 16, I worked at a McDonald's drive-thru. On a Sunday evening, I had a customer begin his order by asking for a double cheeseburger with no pickles. Then, he just stopped talking. After asking, "Sir? Did you need a moment with your order?" I just figured the dude had realized he'd forgotten his wallet or something.
I had one of the guys working the grill go outside and pretend to check on the display sign to see what was going on. I’ll never forget what happened next. The grill guy ran back in, obviously shaken and talking really fast. "Oh my God, I think the guy's dead!! I can't tell!! He's all slumped over. His window was down, but he didn't move when I asked if he was okay. He's dead!!"
We let the shift manager (who was only a 23-year-old guy) know what was going on, and he called 9-1-1. The ambulance showed up a few minutes later (by that time, our drive-thru line was wrapped around the building because people wanted to gawk). They did CPR on the dude for a minute or so, but nothing seemed to change.
Then, they loaded him into the ambulance and one of the ambulance drivers moved the guy's car out of the drive-thru lane. Our manager called to check on him later that evening and we found out that he'd had a massive heart attack and probably perished almost instantly. I was the last person to hear the dude's voice. His last words were spent ordering a double cheeseburger with no pickles. Pretty scary!
I worked at a local pizza place, and we only had a handful of houses on the "no delivery list". One of them was added because of a really dumb mistake on my part. It was my first night closing, and it was approaching 11 o'clock. My manager and I were just ready to leave when an order came in online right before we were to close.
Had it been a call-in, we would have just told them we were closing and that they would have to order earlier in the future. However, since we were technically open, we made the order, and I took it out. I instantly smelled booze when I arrived—these people were absolutely smashed. They greeted me, I told them their total, and the guy said, "Just sit the food on the table while I get the money", so I did.
That’s when I learned not to give the food before I get the money. The real issue came from the fact that we had run out of large dough, so we made them two mediums, which was MORE food, but charged them for a large. These people were hammered, and they thought that I was trying to charge them for two pizzas instead of the one.
So, after trying to explain this to them for 10 minutes, I called my manager and asked him to explain it. They were getting mad, so I walked away for just a second to ask what to do, and my manager said, "Just bring the food back". I walked back in, and they had already eaten every last bite. I was dumbfounded that they had consumed everything in about 40 seconds, and I was still without cash as they refused to pay.
When I got back to the store, all my manager said, "It wasn't really your fault, but we'll make sure it doesn't happen again", and proceeded to put their name and number on "the list".
This one time, I was helping these two teen boys when I heard a strange noise from the back seat. “That’s the duck,” one of them told me, followed by a honk from the back. “And that’s the goose.” It’s worth noting that they had just left a football game and came straight to the drive-thru, so lord only knows where the duck and goose were before that.
I delivered pizzas for a chain when I was 19. I didn’t have a cell phone at the time, but this event spurred me to get one. I was a day driver mostly, and I was working for probably a couple months at the time. I get a delivery for a street that apparently has a lot of bad stuff going on around it. One of my managers instructed me to only carry $15 in change, and to call 9-1-1 if I needed to.
I reminded him that I didn’t have a cell phone. His response was ridiculous. He said “That’s okay, just scream ‘9-1-1!’” So now that I was nervous, I set out for my destination. I get out, lock my car, and deliver the pizza with no problem. Breathe a sigh of relief, go to open my car and...I locked my keys in my car. Some of the neighbors were out playing basketball in the street and saw me.
One of them lent me a cell to call the shop. The one manager that could help me had driven into work on his motorcycle, so he had to drive home and get his truck and tools. When he asked me where I was, his response was something like, “God, there of all places?!” So yeah, instilling more confidence in me. But in actuality, the people on the street were very kind.
Various conversations ensued like, “How good is your insurance? We could just break a window.” And, “Hey man, couldn’t you break into it for her?” “Naw man, it’s been years since I’ve broken into cars.” I didn’t want to pay for damages to my car, because I didn’t know what the insurance on the car was. So they just kept me company for the couple hours it took for my manager to arrive with tools to open my car.
I drove back to the shop to clock out for the day. Any time I drove through that area after the incident, the locals waved at me. It’s one of my favorite memories from that time.
One early Saturday morning in high school, my buddy and I were blazing really hard. We were absolutely gonzo, and we were challenging ourselves to block the munchies. Every time one of us got an urge to eat, we would force ourselves to keep going. Long story short: we were toasted. We ended up caving around 2 am and our friend drove us to the nearest Burger King.
We went through the drive-thru and it was totally quiet; not a soul or car in the area. We ordered a ton of food, and when we pulled up to the cashier window, the cashier was this older, 50-year-old dude who seemed to be the only one in the entire restaurant. I can’t believe what he said next. He looks right at us and asks with total sincerity: "You kids got the good stuff?"
My friend and I both busted out laughing, vehemently denying it, naturally. But the man persisted and asked three more times. Eventually, we caved and said yeah. He then proposed a trade—as much free food as we wanted for some of our "good stuff." We obviously agreed. We met him around back near the dumpsters and made the trade.
When he still bothered us for more after we had already given him some, we sprinted back to the car and peeled out. We looked back and the dude was chasing us down the road on foot. Wild.
I was delivering pizza when, one day, I went on the porch and saw a snarling Rottweiler behind the door. It happened a lot, so it wasn’t a big deal. The lady pushed him back, we did the pizza transaction, and as I was turning to go, the lady said, "Oh my god, he's out." The back door was open, and the dog was charging around the house, about to come onto the porch.
I quickly opened the door to run inside, but the lady screamed, "No, the really bad one is inside." I saw a bigger dog just inside the hall, so I stuck myself between the screen door and the real door. I was trapped in an angry dog sandwich. The outside dog bit my calf because I could only close the screen door so much.
I didn’t have much damage, but I was bleeding. The house was close to the store, so my manager went to talk with the lady after I finally escaped. The dogs were penned up out back. As soon as the lady started talking to him, another small mutt zipped out the door and bit him on the hand. He made the call on no more pizza for them.
My brother was taking the drive-thru order and there was lots of muffled talking, as though it were a group of people trying to decide what to order, along with some shushing. That’s not unusual, but what happened next sure was. The car pulls around to the window when out of nowhere, the trunk pops open and a guy jumps out.
He immediately takes off running, and the four guys in the car jump out after him, tackle him in the street, throw him back in the trunk and speed off.
So I've been delivering close to a year now, had no hiccups so far until this happened. I got a delivery to a familiar house, nice and easy drive. I got to the door and heard the mom yell out, "I'll be just a minute." Anyway, I'm greeted with the face of a six-year-old when the door opens, no mom in sight. Now, I don't really care about kids answering the door in regards to tips, as in Australia we don't have a tipping culture and don't rely on tips.
I tell the little girl it was $18 all up, and she looks at me puzzled and hands a $50, saying, "Is this enough?" Of course, I'm not going to take from a little kid, so I carefully count back her change to the exact cent. I think it's going smoothly. How wrong I was. I attempt to give her the pizza, and she is obviously struggling to hold the box.
I hesitate and say, "I think it would be best if you got your mom to carry it just in case." However, she shakes her head and said her mom said she had to carry it back. This annoyed me a bit, since I don't want to be blamed if she drops the pizza. The little girl gets a good grip of the pizza and walks down the hallway as I'm closing the door.
Just as I was about to close the door, the little girl drops the pizza, topping side down, all over the floor. At this point, I've shut the door fully and can see a bit of the action through the glass pane next to the door. The little kid is trying to scrape all the toppings into the box, and failing horrendously. I'm in an awkward position as I'm just standing there at the door, helpless.
I wait there for another good two-three minutes waiting at the door to see if her mom came to rectify the situation with me. I was prepared to talk it over with her and see if she wanted a new one, however all I could hear was the mom scolding her daughter about the mess she made. At that point, I was actually angry. The little girl must have felt so embarrassed about the situation, and the mom didn't have the decency to help her struggling kid with the pizza.
As I went to my car, which was a good 20 meters away, I could still hear the mom yelling. I got back to the store and told my manager what happened just to cover my butt if the mom phoned up and tried to blame anything on me. Fortunately, we didn't hear from her. Throughout the whole shift, I felt awful about the situation and felt sorry for the girl. I knew what I had to do.
At the end of our shift, we get to make and take home a pizza for free. I decided to make the same pizza as the one that the little girl dropped and drop it off on my way home to their house. This wasn't because I felt bad for the mom, who probably had to cook her own dinner, but I felt as if it would take the stress off the little girl. So I went back to their house, pizza in hand and some ice cream for the kid.
I explain to the mom that I saw what happened and decided to tell her how little kids shouldn't answer the door, as money can be easily taken and food easily dropped. I say that in the future she should at least watch her child when answering the doors for deliveries at the very least. She ended up apologizing profusely and thanking me for my troubles. The mom has answered the door ever since.
I was once working at the drive-thru and this lady came up to the speaker, I greeted her and told her to order whenever she was ready. She said that she wasn't going to order anything and that she just needed someone to talk to. The customer is always right, so I talked with her about how my day was going. Then, she hit me with a huge curveball. She told me she had an incurable, infectious disease.
I was dumbstruck. The lady probably just got diagnosed and the only person she could talk to about it was me, the drive-thru guy. I talked to her for a few more minutes, and then she said that she had better go. I never saw her face or even her car.
There was an older man who had dementia that would order four fountain drinks and nothing else from my shop, then would tip about $300 every time. After hearing about it a couple of times, I told my manager. We all agreed to contact his family, let them know we wouldn't take orders from him and that they would have to take some measures to keep him from doing the same with other establishments. God only knows how much money that poor guy gave away.
I worked at a McDonald's in high school over 20 years ago and I still remember this one man. He pulled up and I nearly puked. He smelled of what I can only describe as rotting garbage, body odor and possibly a dead animal. That smell haunts me to this day. There was also trash piled high in the car and the dashboard was covered in old hamburger wrappers.
I felt so bad for the guy. He handed me money from his coat pocket and it was wet, soggy cash. He dug out the change from his center console and there was a gritty substance on the coins. Now, I've handled deer guts and the like, but never in my life have I ever wanted to scrub my hands with boiling water, bleach, and steel wool.
So I'm working as the pizza maker at a tiny independent pizza shop in New Orleans. The delivery driver is a 6'6" Lithuanian basketball player who's supposed to be on a basketball scholarship, but has some troubles with the NCAA over a few exhibition games he may have gotten paid for. So instead, he's delivering pizza in a clapped-out ghetto sled instead of going to college.
We send him out on a run for three nearby deliveries, and after about 30 minutes of him being out, the customer from the third house calls to complain that their pizza hasn't arrived yet. So I call the first house and they're like “pizza came just fine.” I call the second house and they say their pizza just arrived, so I figure he's had car problems and I'll go find him.
So I drive over to the second house and follow the logical route toward the third. As I'm almost there, I see this giant man running at a full sprint down the middle of the road with the pizza bag held up over his shoulder like a waiter. I pulled up beside him and without stopping he yelled, "Must deliver pizza," turned the corner, and ran up to the customer's house.
When he got done, I found out the entire amazing story. His car had actually failed to start at the very first house, and he decided to run about three miles with several pizzas rather than screw around looking for a phone. Best delivery driver we ever had by far.
I worked at a McDonald's in my sophomore year of high school. Some lady went through the drive-thru at about 1 AM and someone accidentally gave her Diet Coke instead of regular. In her rage, she threw the drink back through the window—but that wasn’t what it made it memorable. It was where the drink landed. The drink splashed right into the hot frying oil and it began to sizzle and splatter—and then, it splashed all over one of our co-workers.
The lady drove away pretty fast, but the manager got her license plate number off the cameras. She was sued for that incident.
A guy would order about once a week, and every other time he demanded, it would either be cut into squares or triangles. After following his directions and bringing him the type he asked for, he would say we cut it the wrong way and demanded a new one. So, one time when he called, our store owner had us make two pizzas, one that was cut each way took it to the guy's house and told him to pick one. He said he wouldn’t pay, so we stopped delivering to him.
I delivered to this apartment. A guy answers the door, then looks at me with visible disgust. I continue in standard procedure mode: greeting, tell him the total, wait for my money. He says, "No, you are a woman. I will not deal with a woman. Call your manager immediately and have them send a male driver." I tell him no, I'm not gonna do that, he can pay me and take the food, or not pay me and I'll leave, because screw him.
I didn't bother to mention the other driver on shift and the manager were also women. This guy raises his arm like he's going to backhand me and says something like, "How dare you speak to me like that??" I said, “Screw you. Hit me, I dare you.” Maybe not the best retort, but don't worry, I've done dumber stuff in my life. He lowers his arm, literally throws the money at me, rips the bag of subs out of my hand, and slams the door.
After spending a while vomiting some choice words at his closed door until I reached some level of satisfaction, I went back to the store to share the tales of my adventures. One of the other managers who had come in went into the dude's customer account to add a ban note, briefly detailing the situation and that he had threatened to hit me and that we were not to take his orders anymore. But it took an awful turn.
The store manager comes in later and hears the story. He goes into the freaking customer account and changes the ban to a note saying to only send male drivers to take this delivery. And that is when I decided to quit that job.
This older woman pulled up at around 9-10 PM, close to closing time. She had a baby teacup chihuahua in her hand that was wearing a sash and a tilted pink plastic tiara. She talked a bit of nonsense, then after I found her order in the system, I went to grab her card/cash, but instead, she held out the dog. Like, just held it out there.
It looked like she was about to drop it so I grabbed it. After holding it for a few moments, completely flabbergasted, she explained she’s selling them for fifty bucks a pup. Trying to be polite, I lied and said I’d have to talk to my parents about it, gave her the dog, had her pay for her order, and sent her on her way.
It was the weirdest encounter, to this day, next to some lady that asked me to find someone to help her move. I ended up doing that myself with my dad’s help. She was a complete hot mess with problems out the wazoo.
I can’t believe this story really happened so if you don’t either, then I understand. Today I delivered to a Motel 6. In general, 4 out of 5 people at Motel 6 don’t tip, so I wasn’t expecting much. The guy answers the door and I hand him his pizza. As he’s signing the credit card slip, I notice his pet cat. I love animals, so I always get really extra and I say, “Oh my god, your cat is so adorable.”
He opens the door a little wider and points to the corner…where there was a full litter of about 10-15 kittens. He says, “Do you want one?” At this point, I’m kind of shocked. I ask if he’s being serious and he says yes and tells me to go grab one. I picked one up and he says, “That can be your tip!” and hands me back the slip (which did indeed have a nice little 0). So now I’m the owner of a four-week-old kitten named Tipsy.
I have a McDonald's story. I was out in the car park taking care of bins when a big, bulky family car that had just been through the drive-thru started circling and revving profusely. It caught my attention because it wasn't like it was a sports car. I didn't get why he was revving. I soon found out it was because his kid had gotten the wrong topping on his ice cream.
The man yelled through the window at me when I got back inside. His kid also threw the ice cream at me, ruining my uniform. I was pretty ticked off, so I picked it back up and threw it back at the car. As it was sailing its creamy way toward the car again, it suddenly dawned on me that this guy might get out and get me fired, so I froze. Luckily, it landed on the roof cream side down and the guy hadn't noticed!
So he drove off in his car wearing a little waffle hat. I wish I'd been there to see his face later on. I quit about a week later when an angry customer smeared her excrement on the walls of the washroom.
We banned someone in our extended delivery area and about a 20-minute drive away because when I first went out there, they answered the door, handed me a $20 said, "Keep the change". Their order was about $14, so I asked if they were sure, and they said, "Yep". They then called the manager and said they needed their change, so I had to drive back out to give them their change and got zero in tips.
My manager then banned them from delivery or pickup.
Two young girls in their 20s pulled up to the drive-thru one morning. As I handed out the food, the passenger turned her head as if to barf out the window, but her plan went so, so wrong. She didn't realize that the window was rolled up so the puke just oozed down the glass. I made sure to give them plenty of napkins to try and be helpful. Later, I found their puke filled napkins all around the parking lot.
So, I got the luxury of picking those up as well. Treat your service people nicely folks, they put up with quite a bit.
I delivered pizza for a few months in high school. I had a lady pay me in all quarters for a $40 pizza. Luckily, it was all there, and she tipped me pretty decently. I also had a church order for $500 worth of pizza, and they gave me NO tip after they watched me carry every last pizza into their meeting hall. My manager put them on a no deliver list after that.
There was this woman that would come through and get a hot chocolate every day. Her name was Mary. Mary was an older gal in her 70s, drove an early 90s Lincoln, usually had some old tunes playing, and weighed 60lbs., if that. She was always so happy and so nice. I always gave her drinks for free because it was always such a treat to see her and she was just so nice.
One other feature I remember is she always rocked suspenders and a random colored fedora every day. I think she reminded me of Ms. Frizzle after she retired. One day, she comes through and orders her usual. I said, “Mary, why are you always in such a good mood? What’s your secret?” She smiles and waves me closer. I lean out the drive-thru window.
Then she says something that makes my jaw drop. She quietly says, “Really, really good drugs.” She winks at me, turns her radio up, and cruises out of the parking lot. Mary is my hero.
This notorious stiffer lives in a nice gated apartment complex. She either writes a line through the credit card receipt tip line or, on cash order, will give us $28 on a $27.XX order. She always writes instructions on the receipt to call her when at the gate so she can buzz us in and meet us outside her door when we get to her unit. Sometimes she won't answer her phone and we wait at the gate entrance for 5-10 minutes before she buzzes us in.
Well, this last time she ordered $57.84 worth of food, cash. I get to the gate and was able to piggyback behind another car, then drive to her apartment unit. I put $0.16 in my pocket cause I knew she was going to give me $58. I knock on her door and somebody else answers, one of her several guests. Nice guy told me to come inside and put the five pizzas on the table, then offered me a drink.
This was during an NFL game because maybe 12 or 13 people were there, most of them wearing jerseys. I spot the stiffer girl at the table. She gets up and starts escorting me out the door, then gives me the money. I count it before stepping outside...and of course, it's just $58. So I get the coins from my pocket and give it to her, saying, "Here's your 16 cents change."
I say it loud enough so everyone inside can hear, then I step outside and leave. Ha, cheapskate! But she bit back. I just finished reading a negative review that she wrote online about us. It was written on the same day as the NFL game, and I noticed it was her by the avatar Facebook picture. She says we always get the toppings wrong and take forever to deliver her food, which is completely false.
Why would she keep ordering from us for the past year? I guess I made her angry. Mission Accomplished!
I once worked at Dunkin Donuts for a few months. Once, we had a lovely woman pull up at the drive-thru 20 minutes before it opened. Naturally, my co-worker and I ignored her while we hurried to set up because without the headset on, we had no idea she was even there. And there was no way I was putting that thing on a minute earlier than I had to.
Eventually, she pulled up to the window with an evil-looking face. We gestured to tell her "Sorry, we're not open yet," but apparently, she took it personally. She then started banging on the glass. When we opened the window to explain that we couldn't serve her yet, she began cursing and squeezed her fat self out of the car.
She leaned into the window spewing off insults. We just stared in awe. I think we told her the authorities were coming or something and she left.
Our store was in a really rough area. It was the kind of neighborhood with glass between you and your gas station clerk. On my first day, one of the drivers got maced and pistol-whipped for $32. But there was so much more to the story than we thought. We eventually found out the assistant manager was the person who set it up because she didn't like him.
The store was ripped off so frequently that it refused to accept carry-out orders after sundown. Even so, they had no problem sending us drivers into the middle of bad neighborhoods with food and cash. The places on the blacklist were put there because drivers had been swindled there. No matter how rough the area was, we would still deliver there until someone got held up.
Then we would blacklist everywhere within three to four blocks of the place.
We had an old lady who would come nearly every night, about 15 minutes from closing, and order the same thing—a small chocolate ice cream cone. For small orders like that, we would take the order, make the order and hand it to the customer from the first window. She would get her cone and drive very slowly around the building. Normal enough, right? Oh, strap in.
She would then stop at the outlet of the drive-thru for about one minute and finish the ice cream. Then, she would open her door, lean way out and, straining against her seatbelt, stick her finger down her throat and puke the ice cream right back up in our driveway. So, part of our daily closing activities was to go wash the mess up with a hose.
Greg. Freaking Greg. So I work at Pizza Hut as a delivery driver, and we have this one customer who everyone hates to go to because he always pays in exact change. No tip. Ever. If the driver doesn’t have the change he wants, he will call the store and demand the driver brings him back his 50¢. He has done this multiple times. Let me also mention that Greg is very well off.
He lives in a half-million-dollar house and drives a $50,000 truck. This happened during a blizzard. Of course. And Greg orders a pizza. Nothing special, but his total was $15.11 and I draw the short straw and have to take it to him. There is about three inches or so of snow and it’s still snowing. I get to his house and ring the bell. At this point, I take his pizza out of the insulated bag.
I wanted it to get cold, but everything turned out so much better than I had anticipated. He takes forever to get to the door. When he finally gets there, he hands me $13 in cash and a handful of change. In the process, he drops a dime. I count everything up and I have $15.01. 10¢ short. At first, he asks if I can just cover it for him. I say "No, I am not going to pay 10¢ out of my pocket for your pizza."
If it were any other customer, I probably would have. It's only 10¢. But not for Greg. He starts blaming me for dropping the dime. (He dropped it). Again, I say no and that he will have to find the dime or get another. At this point, the pizza is already getting cold. It was well below freezing out there. He starts kicking around the snow on his porch looking for the dime.
I spotted the dime right away but kept quiet. All the while, he is muttering about how I dropped it and I should pay for it. I'm trying my best to hide my grin. About 3-5 minutes later, I'm starting to get cold and the pizza might as well have just came out of the fridge. I tell him I am timed on these orders (I am) and that he should go inside and get money.
He, of course, claims he has no more money and starts his sob story about him not having money. So I give him back his money and leave. I told him that if he finds his dime to just call the store and we will bring him his pizza. I know he has money, so I just pull around the corner and call the store to tell my manager what happened.
During the call, Greg calls the store saying he has his money. I get back to the house, pull the pizza out again, and go back to his door. He hands me all the money and I make sure to count it, slowly. It's all there. I ask him if he found it in the snow and he said, "No, I just got it from the house." He got cold pizza and I got paid. He hasn't ordered since. Freaking Greg.
I used to work at Tim Hortons. When I had to work on the window, I would barely ever look to see it if it was busy. I'm 6'2'' tall, so for me to look out of the window, I basically have to double over since the opening was so low. I still cringe when I think about what this led to for one customer. This one day, I was really distracted when I took the customer's money. I didn't look properly and when I handed the coffee out the window, I let go when I felt a hand grab the cup.
Immediately I heard an "Oh no!" so I looked out the window and the guy had nubs for fingers. He was waving his hand back and forth trying to get control of the cup enough to bring it in his car. I apologized profusely and he left after a couple of minutes.
Back in the 80s, I was delivering for Godfathers in Memphis. We had no-delivery houses as well as areas. We had one area smack dab in the middle of our normal delivery zone that was blocked out. It was a low-income apartment complex. One day, we got a new manager. He was eager to up his numbers, so he quickly changed that area to be a legit delivery area.
The first time he handed me an order for that complex, I explained that it was really bad and we didn't go there for a reason. He accused me of being discriminatory, said to just deliver it, and quit complaining. So, I drove it out there and walked upstairs to the apartment. I knocked—there was no answer. That’s when I made a disturbing realization. It was a vacant apartment.
So I headed back to my car. I was sorting my money bag and next order when I glanced up in the rearview mirror. I saw three bad-looking dudes crossing the parking lot heading right for my car. One of them was carrying a rifle. I cranked up my VW Rabbit, threw it in reverse, and hauled out of the lot. I got back to the shop, and the new manager accused me of making it all up.
He said he didn't think I had even attempted to deliver the pie and told me to go back there. I said no way. He insisted, so I insisted he come with me. He agreed. We drove back out there; he carried the pizza up the stairs, realized that it was a vacant apartment, and quickly got back in the car. He said, "Sorry, dude. You were right. It was a setup".
We returned to the shop, and he marked the whole area off-limits again.
I used to work at McDonald’s back in the day. I was training a new girl and told her to hand the man at the window his drink. The window opens, and I notice the adult man driving is wearing a bib. Weird, but to each their own. As the new girl reaches out her hand to pass the man his drink, he just starts vomiting on himself, violently, so there was splatter.
The new girl stood there in shock, so I grabbed her and pulled her back. The window automatically closed and the man eventually drove away. Another weird instance is when I was handing a man a small chocolate shake, I kid you not, a small monkey wearing a diaper hopped up on the man’s seat, reached out and took the shake from me.
The worst part was none of my co-workers believed me because I was the only one who saw the monkey.
I've been delivering for about three weeks now, and tips are either really bad or pretty good. I go to the door and a kid answers, and his mom is in the back. I tell him his total and I'm pretty sure he was just happy to pay for something because, without hesitation, he hands me a $100 bill, claps, and runs to his mom to tell her he paid and runs back.
I don't notice it is $100 and thought it was $10, so I walk back to my car. Then I see the bill he gave me has that blue line and a gold 100 on it. At that point, I got really happy, but realized that I felt guilty if I left. I go back and the mom answers and looks really confused. I show her the bill and said the little boy gave it to me. She called his name and he said he got it from her purse.
She told me she was so glad that I gave it back and that it was supposed to be for their groceries that week. In the end, I got a $3 tip, but at that point I didn't mind since I just saved a family from going hungry for a couple days.
I had a man and woman come through and order. They got to the window and he fell asleep within the 60 seconds that he was sitting there. The lady woke him up and he paid. Then, before we could hand his food out to him, we noticed his truck started to roll. I got to the window in time to see the truck scraping the side of the building. He then woke up, got onto the highway, and floored it—but the story didn’t end there.
He came back 30 minutes later and ordered something completely different. He didn't know that he had been to our KFC already. The manager called the authorities and we kept him in the drive-thru until they got there.
When I was in high school, I worked as a delivery driver for Papa John's. It was a good weekend job, with lots of nice people in my area. However, there were a couple of people who we didn't like to serve and were later added to the blacklist. One memorable house had this guy who would order massive amounts of pizza—from seven to twenty pizzas—and pay with cash.
It was always the same order. Naturally, we would call ahead of time to make sure it was a legit order and that we would get paid for the pizza. He would answer, tell us that it's all good and that he had the cash. I would load up my car, drive over, and he would never be there. The lights would be off in the house and everything.
This went on three times before we decided to add him to the blacklist. Then, we would get the same order put in for other houses. We would get sketched out and not deliver to these houses. Over time, and with many anchovies and olive orders made, we added about six or seven houses to the blacklist.
My first "work for someone else" job was in high school at a burger place with a red headed namesake. I'm a people person and could count change back, so onto the register I went. It was a late night on a Saturday in 1980 something and there was a really loud, happy group at the drive-thru window. They made their order clearly, but boisterous and a bit over the top loud.
No problem we can’t deal with, and we get the order together. They pull up, roll the window down and it's a guy, his buddies and a keg, leaning from the back seat onto a board, with the tap in the middle of the drivers bench seat! The driver paid, got most of his food and asked for an extra cup with a lid. We were supposed to charge for it but I didn’t.
The driver fills the cup from the keg, puts the lid on, pops the straw in and hands it back to me through the window! I look at my co-workers and no one has seen any of this. I dump my shift soda in the trash and the newly acquired beverage filled cup in its place. I pounded that beverage in about 45 seconds, through a straw.
Guess who shows back up at the window? In a quiet voice, the driver said we forgot something on his order. I had to lean out and he asked if I needed him to get rid of the evidence! Sorry sir, here is your beverage, and out goes the proof of my stupid choice!
It was a super busy Saturday last night but we were holding our own. A delivery comes up, so I run it out. I get to the woman's house about 25 minutes after she ordered and she is UPSET! She says she was quoted 45 minutes for delivery, and I tell her that's the window. She's all mad at me because now I've ruined her evening because she planned for 45 minutes…?
She goes on and on. I'm standing in the rain and snow while she's complaining. I tell her to call the store and tell the general manager. The last words out of her mouth were: "I'm not about to tip when you can't control your service" and she slams the door in my face. Thanks you old hag, next time I'll forget to close the bag flap so you can have cold early pizza.
I used to deliver to this one house, and they would always ask to deliver it to the backdoor under the porch. Every time it would always be a different person who seemed high on something. Apparently, they saw one of the delivery drivers—on their cameras—going through their cars and taking something. They suspected it was me.
The next time I delivered there, I went to the front door, and this guy with two huge angry Rottweilers on leashes opened the door. I immediately ratted out my coworker and explained it wasn't me. The guy felt bad and invited me in, gave me a fat tip, and I left. It must've been a dope den or something because there was a big flat-screen TV that had live-stream footage of security cameras around their house.
My boss stopped taking orders from them after that.
I worked at a Starbucks throughout high school. One time, a couple came through in a big pickup truck. I asked them how their day was, and the female responded with: "I was just released from the hospital." I replied, "Good to hear you are all better!" She then proceeded to tell me that she was in a car accident and was paralyzed from the waist down.
My jaw hit the floor and I was speechless. I handed them their drinks, wished them off, and watched as the wheelchair sped off in the back of the truck. I'll never forget that encounter. That made me feel like a piece of garbage.
I used to work at a sub shop. One guy would always order inane things like a bag of ice, a jar of mayo, and food. He tipped pretty well, so the owner put up with him. However, he had the habit of coming to the door in nothing but underpants and socks. He would ask the male delivery drivers to come and swim in his penthouse with him and invite them in for drinks—until the day he went too far.
This time, when he ordered, he faked a heart attack to try and get me into his condo to take care of him. That’s when owner put him on the no-delivery list.
This happened when I was 17 years old and a shift supervisor. It was a Sunday and three people hadn’t shown up for their shift so we were slammed. I was cleaning trays, washing dishes, and taking orders in the back at the same time, nonstop, for three hours. Then, my manager came back and said he needed me to push a van that had broken down at the window.
My immediate thought was, “What kind of person takes such terrible care of their van?” I started walking to the front door and looked out the drive-thru window. I couldn't believe my eyes. There was a young lady in full habit attire with five other very elderly women, also in full habit attire. I had never seen a nun in person before or since. They looked at me and smiled.
One of them said, “Sorry about this!” and without missing a beat I replied, “No problem ladies, we’ll take care of it.” So me and one other guy pushed the van out of the way and helped the tow truck guy when he came. The nuns thanked us, blessed us, and rode off. I then looked at my coworker and asked “Did you swear when you heard their car broke down?”
“Yup.” “Me too. We’re going to the bad place aren’t we?” “Yup!”
This story sounds like it came out of a movie, but I promise it's 100% true. I'm a delivery driver for a small carryout/delivery place in a suburb of Seattle. Our area is really weird, because although our radius is 5 miles, we have all types of neighborhoods: section 8 housing to multi-million dollar homes, urban to rural, etc. It's a fast-growing area so it's a total mixed bag.
Last summer, I had a delivery to an upper-middle-class area of my town. It was a regular customer, a guy who ordered from us every week while his wife was pregnant with their first kid. Same order every time, two large pizzas. Their house is new and pretty nice, but they live on a hill so the platform outside their front door is a 5-foot drop down onto their front yard, which is also concrete.
I go to deliver their pizza and the wife opens the door with a newborn no older than a week or two sitting on her arm resting against her chest. She's clearly exhausted, and her husband is coming home from work, so he isn't home to help her out. Her hands are full so I offer to set her pizzas down somewhere for her, but she insists that she can take them.
I hand her the food and while she's focused on balancing the boxes on her hand, I witness a horrific sight. I see her baby lean backward and start to fall out of her arm. I reach to catch him and he slips into my breaking pizza bag feet first and lands perfectly inside of it, completely unhurt but crying. She drops the pizza and grabs him out of the bag and we just silently stare at each other for a few moments in shock.
She hands me the money she owes me and says, "Thank you" in a shaky voice and closes the door. I'm not sure if we have delivered there again since that incident, but it shook me pretty bad, to the point where I sat in my car and cried for a minute or two just out of sheer shock and speculation out of what would've happened if I wasn't able to catch him.
A couple of years ago, I worked at a drive-thru and this guy came around to pay. When he got there, he said, "Did I say I wanted extra pickles on that? Because I want extra pickles on that." I informed him that his burger was already made and ready to go, but I offered to have a new one fixed up with a satisfactory amount of pickles. The man paused, then had a look of realization.
He looked up and said, "Don't worry about it! Now that I think about it, I think I might have some extra ones right here." The guy then proceeded to open up his glove compartment and pull out a giant jar of sliced pickles. It was weird.
I used to deliver sandwiches for a shop. We had to blacklist this one lady who would call up at the last minute and demand 50–100 sandwiches for her meetings to be delivered in 15 minutes. We explained over and over again how that was not possible, but she still demanded her order. So, when it showed up 45 minutes later than expected, she would become a monster.
She would cause a scene, wouldn’t tip, and would send in complaints to the district manager. This occurred numerous times. One day, she called in an order for 200 sandwiches and wanted it in 15 minutes. I delivered them myself. She took the sandwiches from me, and I sat there and waited for her to sign the receipt. I waited and waited.
She took the sandwiches into her meeting and booked out of there. She then called her bank to cancel the charge on her card and called us in for fraud. She had the nerve to call up our district manager and say that we OWED this to her since all of her orders were late. She was blacklisted after that, and my district manager finally apologized for not believing she was a nightmare.
One time I was with my mom when she went through a drive-thru. The car stalled at the window and wouldn't start. I looked at her and said, "so, wait for the food and then push?" She said yes. They came to the window with our order, we got everything situated, then I hopped out and started pushing the car. It didn’t help that it was a big boat of an Oldsmobile.
I had to push it in a way that made it look like I was sitting on the back bumper. The looks on the faces of the people in the window as I passed by were pretty darn funny. We ended up going inside the restaurant to wait for someone to pick us up. An employee who was working the drive-thru graciously told us we could wait there as long as we needed to.
They were even so kind as to get us cups for the soda fountain. They checked on us more than once and we were only there for maybe half an hour. I grew up in a family that often didn't have a vehicle, and when we did have one, it usually left us stranded on a regular basis. It was a frustrating inconvenience on a regular basis.
Thankfully, the folks working in the restaurant were so nice and felt so bad for us. We were just happy to have a ride on the way and a building to wait in.
This happened a few years ago. When I was 16, I got my first job working for a franchise-owned pizza place. I worked there until I was 24. When I was 19, I received the shift leader position and got a 30-cent raise. Our store was pretty slow and we only had a handful of employees there, so I understood. One day, the franchise owner comes in when I’m running my shift to tell me I would be getting a new manager.
The franchise owner gave me his personal number and said if I needed anything, to call him if the new manager had any problems. So the next day I’m working my 10 am to 12 am shift and the new manager comes in. We’ll call him Stan. We talk a little more and he asks why there isn’t an assistant manager. I let him know we probably don’t make enough to pay an assistant manager.
He said he would worry about that and he left. I jumped to the conclusion that he was going to make me the assistant. I was so, so wrong. I closed that night and had to come in at 4 pm the next day. When I did, Stan was there with a girl I’ve never seen before, and she was wearing one of our uniforms. He said it was his roommate “Wendy.”
She had never worked for a pizza place before, but she just lost her job. He hired her as the assistant manager and completely changed my schedule and severely cut my hours. Oh, and guess who had to train her? Yep. Before Stan and Wendy, I worked 10 am to 12 am four days a week, then 4 to close on two other days. Now I just had 4 pm to 12 am five days a week. No more overtime. That severely hurt me financially but I sucked it up.
This place was pretty much in my back yard and I loved my job before all this mess. The next couple of weeks are okay, except one huge thing is off. We are coming up short every night that I close. Usually, it’s no more than $10, but that’s a lot! And it was coming back on me because I’m the one who does the nightly inventory, paperwork, and deposits.
I brought the shortage problem to Stan and he told me if it kept happening, he would start taking it from my check! I had never taken a penny from this place and I felt pretty awful. He says he wasn’t accusing me, just letting me know what he would have to do. I said fine, but every day from now on, when I close I want to do a shift change.
A shift change is basically counting down the drawers, which would help figure out where the shortages are coming from. He agrees. The very next day, I go in at 4:00 and start clocking in and all that fun stuff before Wendy leaves. I look at the order screen for the day to see how well we did for lunch (money-wise) and that’s when I notice something.
It said at 12 a customer, who just so happened to be one of my regulars, called and ordered 10 pizzas for pick up. Then it said the order was canceled. They had never canceled before, so I was concerned. Quick side note—I feel like I was being more of a manager than both of mine put together. While I was in the back office counting the drawers, Wendy was covering the front.
I pick up the phone and call the customer from earlier. I didn’t ask why he canceled, I just asked how his experience was today since we had a new manager. He said it was fine except she needed to learn how to work the credit card machine. Apparently, she told him she could only take cash. He said he left, went to the ATM, and came back and paid $80.00 in cash for the pizzas.
He said other than that, everything was fine. I asked to confirm and he said he most definitely didn’t cancel. So here’s one possibility. The credit card machine did go down and she could only accept cash, so she canceled the order in the computer until he came back and paid, and she just forgot to ring it up again. That would be harmless. But I had a darker idea.
I thought she was taking money. I knew if I went to Stan he wouldn’t do anything about it, so I called our franchise owner “Eric.” I ask his opinion and he said he thinks I’m right. So he tells me what to do. First, I wasn’t allowed to say a word about it to Stan or Wendy. He said let Wendy leave and finish out the day as usual. He said if she’s not doing it, you will come up $80.00 over at the end of the night.
If she’s stealing, we should break even. I finished counting, and we were just one dollar short. The next day is when the magic happens. I go in at 4 as usual. Wendy is there waiting for Stan to pick her up, then Eric walks in. He tells her to follow her to the office and tells me to send Stan back when he gets here. Stan comes in and asks why Eric is there.
I shrug and tell him he’s wanted in the office. Maybe 20 minutes later, Stan walks out, brushes past me, and gets in his car. Wendy comes out next and tells me she hopes I’m happy. Eric hadn’t come out of the office yet so I went back there to talk to him. He said in three weeks they took over $1,000 between them and he would have never known if it wasn’t for me.
He then says, “Oh, you’re the new assistant manager, I’m gonna give you $13.00 an hour and we will consider more after a preliminary period.” $13 an hour. I was making $8.50 before this. I stayed a few more years after this and left to do the mom thing. I actually miss it sometimes. Wendy and Stan Facebook stalked me for a couple months after, it was pretty hilarious.
My first real job in high school was at a very loosely-managed Taco Bell where one of the supervisors had been fired recently. While I was working the overnight shift, he came through the drive-thru, pointed a pistol at me, and robbed me of all of my Cinnamon Twists. He took the whole pan of Cinnamon Twists right through his car window. We later cooked a new batch and didn't even call the authorities. The night shift is weird.
I had a delivery for two 20" pizzas and wings. The order was $55. I get to the house and the whole family was outside. The daughter stopped me and said they didn't order and have received numerous fake orders to their house the last few days. They were real nice and wanted to find out who it was, so I gave them the name and number on the ticket and went back to the store.
I tried calling the number from a store phone but got no answer. I felt bad for the family and was a little angry this kid wasted my time, so I called from my cell and the kid answered. I told him I'm from the pizza place and he made a fake order and needed to pay. He said, "Oh god,” laughed, and hung up on me. I was angry and bored, so I tried googling his number to get a name or address but couldn't find anything.
I decided to try and scare him. So I sent him a text saying if he doesn't call and pay, the authorities will be at his house in a little bit. It worked. His sister called back crying and saying please don't send an officer and that her parents will pay when they get home from work and she will make sure her brother gets in trouble. Later that day, his parents called and paid for the food.
I'm pretty sure that kid won't make any more prank orders after this. I also got free pizza and wings out of the whole thing.
I was a manager at Little Caesar's in high school and I had to work on Halloween, which turns out to be one of our busiest days. After a long day, we were getting ready to start closing, so my coworker and I went out for a short break beforehand. That's when an officer's car pulled up. I thought the officer was going to order something, but then he got out and came over to us.
He asked us if we had seen a banana running around the shopping center. Confused, my co-worker and I said no, and he proceeded to tell us that some guy was running around dressed as a banana and flashing people. He told us if we saw him that we should rough 'em up a little bit before calling it in because apparently, he was targeting kids.
We had a pain-in-the-neck family who lived in an obscure, hard-to-find house. They ordered once a month and usually got a different driver who couldn't find their home. They wouldn't answer the phone when we tried to call for directions. They would eventually call up demanding the pizza be free and that they would pick it up themselves.
One day they did this when the regional manager was visiting. She spoke to them, said she would deliver the pizza herself and chatted to them about the issue. They gave her directions. She delivered the pizza and told them they were banned from the store and never to order from there again because no one would deliver to them.
I worked the first window of a McDonald's drive-thru. When people order, you can see their car in the cameras but not much of the driver or what's in the car. This man pulls up to pay and he has this huge snake leisurely wrapped around his neck like a scarf. He has a dumb grin on his face and I knew he wanted to get a rise out of me.
But this was right after a busy lunch rush and I couldn't be bothered, so I dealt with him like a regular customer, told the next window what was up via the headset, walked away and heard a scream a minute later from the front kitchen area.
This happened a few hours ago. I work at a large chain of pizza restaurants. Like most places, we get a few prank calls a week from pre-teens. Usually it doesn't bother me and I'll go along with it because it gives me something to do when it's slow. But being a Friday night, we were busy and I wasn't having it. Me will be me, and K will be kid.
Me: “Hi, thanks for calling Dominos Pizza, how can I help you tonight?” K: trying but not succeeding in holding in his laughter “Hey is Mr. Wall there?” Me: “Um, no sir there is no one named that working here.” K: “What about Mrs. Wall?” Me: “Nope, none of those either.” K: “Then how is your building standing up?!” laughter from him and background.
This went on a couple more times with classics such as, "Can I place an order to your sister’s house?" And the CLASSIC "Is your refrigerator running? Then you better go get it!!!" Finally I had enough. I let the kids know I was done playing games. Me: “Alright look, it says here that your dad's name is [dad's name]. If you don't stop this, I'll give him a call and let him know what's been going on.”
Usually, this would stop the kids. I knew it did back in my earlier days of being a dumb kid. But some people just can't be bothered and have to push the envelope a bit too far. K: “I know you won't. Go ahead and call him.” Oh boy, he didn't have to ask me twice. I hang up the phone and get back to work for a little bit, knowing that the kid will be camped at the phone to answer it for the next 15 minutes or so.
I get back to work, free of prank calls from the kid. I should have left it there, having solved the problem, but hey, the customer is always right and we always give the customer what they want. After the supper rush is done, around 45 minutes to an hour later, I fulfil the request and call his dad. I'm still me, D is dad. Me: “Hello. Unfortunately, we've been getting a number of calls from this number. We're really busy and it’s pushing customers away because of the wait times. Can you please have a talk with who I assume is your son and ask him to knock it off?”
D: “Oh goodness I'm so sorry. I'll have a chat with him and his buddies.” Me: “Thank you so much and thanks for choosing Dominos!” At this point, I think the story is done. Kid will get a talking to, won't do it again, and that'll be the end of it. Boy was I mistaken. Around 30 minutes later, a man and a chubby kid around 12 years old come into the store.
I don't think much of it, thinking they're just getting a few slices for a snack. They come up to the counter and ask for me. Me: “Yes?” D: “I think my son has something to say to you.” The kid is visibly nervous. He keeps looking around the store, won't look me in the eye. K: “I'm very sorry for calling you, I know you're busy and it won't happen again.”
Then to further the awkward suffering of the kid who I kind of feel bad for at this point, the dad places an order for carryout, and sits in our small eatery section where the kid has to try and avoid eye contact with me for the next 20 minutes. Left me a good tip too. At Dominos, the customer always gets what they want.
I work at McDonald's and was manning the drive-thru one night. An older couple came by and ordered a Happy Meal; I assumed it was for a kid. They pulled up to the window and I told them their total. The man in the passenger seat then asked me what toys we had, and I responded with, "Uh, Pokémon toys." He said he wanted Spider-Man toys and I explained that we discontinued them. His reaction was seriously disturbing.
He then went on to say, "What if I show you my wife's rack for a Spider-Man toy?" Shocked, I just said, "That doesn't help your case in getting a toy since we have none." It was really freaking weird. There was no kid in the backseat...
This was from 1985, in a mid-sized American university city. Pizza employee wages then were comparable to other fast-food restaurants, and tips were not as big a factor as they are now. Almost everyone tipped a dollar or so. I got a delivery to a house on the less affluent side of our delivery area, and I was met at the door by four children, I guessed the ages 10 on down.
All beaming with anticipation of all the pizza goodness I was bringing. They paid with exact change and thanked me politely. No tip, not a big deal, and four happy kids. As fate would have it, I delivered to their house every time they ordered. I was greeted with, "Hey, it's you!" Same four kids, and I never saw the parents. They always paid in exact change.
It quickly became clear to me that pizza was a treat for them and something they had to scrimp to afford. Just before Christmas, just before I left the pizza job to work in my field of study, I delivered to their home one last time. They met me at the door as usual. After paying, the oldest child said, "Wait a minute." She came back with a 50-cent tip. "This is for you."
Knowing that the family had to scrape enough for a pizza treat every couple of weeks, this was the best tip ever.
One night when I was working, a man came through in his bathrobe. I didn't really think too much about it. When I was getting the man his sauces, I kept hearing moans coming from the car. Apparently, the man was on the phone with an adult hotline and he had the call hooked up through his car, so it was really loud. I handed him his food while a woman was talking dirty to him.
The scariest part was he seemed so relaxed. He acted like it was a very normal thing to do.
My brother and I were the two delivery boys for a Chinese place near my house. One day, I was working, and a delivery was called in from one of our regulars. It was a massive house with a cool guy who was a good tipper. Needless to say, I was ready for a nice tip. I showed up, and this middle-aged man answered. I assumed it was his dad.
I looked down at the bag to give him his total, and as I did, the guy grabbed my arm and tried to pull me into his house! I just dropped the bag and popped him in the face. He loosened his grip a little, so I wriggled my arm free and high-tailed it out of there. A few court appearances later, he got charged with assault and harassment.
Many years ago, as a 16-year-old girl, I worked the drive-thru at McDonalds. A white van with black curtains on the windows pulled up and two men in uniform paid for their order. I could see that it was marked as a prison van from our local penitentiary. The line was stalled up ahead and not moving, so during the wait, I was casually peeking behind the driver to see who or what may be onboard.
Suddenly, a prisoner in the back moves the black curtain aside and proceeds to shake his head from side-to-side, screaming & wagging his tongue and just genuinely acting crazy, all while in cuffs. It scared me so bad I nearly jumped out of my skin! The guard who was driving could not stop laughing, and I could hear the roaring laughter of the whole van.
They pulled forward and got their fries, and I learned my lesson to never be so nosy again!
A customer ordered last night. It was a medium pizza with 10+ toppings, not too unusual since we're running a half-off special this week so people order weird stuff for cheap. I made the pizza; it was the only order for the last hour, and I made it about 15 minutes before closing time. The customer calls and adds four ranch cups, ok.
Delivery was running a bit late, and the driver says they were asleep and he had to wait about five minutes. $4 tip, cool. Today I get called. The opening driver didn't show up and my manager needs help. Okay, game face on—let's serve those customers, baby. This customer then calls from a different number and says they got a pepperoni only. What? I pull up the order, see it's the 10+ topping, and I call them out.
Me: “That's impossible you only got a pepperoni, I made that pizza myself. Do you have pictures of the pizza and box?” C: “Well, I ate it all and threw it away right before I called you, but I got a pepperoni. You must have mixed up the boxes.” Me: “Yours was the only order the last hour of the night, so there's no way that would have happened.”
C: “Well I'm gonna need a refund or I'm not ordering there ever again.” Me: “You will not receive a refund for this order since I know you're lying, so nice try.” C: “You can't talk to me like that, I'm a valuable customer.” Me: “No you're not. Have a nice day though.”
My first job was at a Taco Bell in high school. I worked at the drive-thru and I didn't care how the tacos came out. One guy rolled up and took 10 to 15 minutes to order, giving me a nice break. He finally decided on some insane number of tacos and bean burritos. He pulled up and I found out why—this guy was definitely under the influence of something.
He handed me a wad of cash that turned out to be way more than enough, so I only took what was needed and handed him back his change. That's when I made a gruesome realization. I noticed that his you-know-what was hanging out of his pants. As I handed him his change, I told him: "Chicken's out of the barn, check yourself before you wreck yourself, bro." Then, he replied, "I didn't order chicken...".
Realizing it didn't process, I told him flat out: "Your little guy is hanging out of your pants, tuck it back in, bub." He let out a slow laugh, then looked down and said, "Oops!" He scrambled to tuck his third leg back into his britches and I handed him his four sacks of diarrhea-waiting-to-happen. That's about it really.
When I was delivering pizzas, we had a vast delivery area. There was an entire section of our city blacked out on the delivery map with a black marker because many of the drivers had been held up there. If someone called from that area, our computer would alert us that we could not deliver. We had a new manager come in and take an order—but he made a huge mistake.
He told the woman, who was African-American, we couldn’t deliver to her because she called from the black area. The woman on the other end of the phone was screaming so loud that he held the phone away from his ear, and I learned a few new word combinations that day. He hung up on her and thought that was the end of it. But it wasn’t—the woman came in.
She was screaming before she even fully entered the shop about discrimination and how she should have a free pizza for the harassment. I ducked out to deliver a pizza. By the time I came back, the woman was gone, and there was a sticky note on the giant delivery map on our wall above the blacked-out area that said, “From here on out, the blackout zone shall be referred to as the no-delivery zone”.
I work at Starbucks and we have a camera that shows us the person ordering. Anyways, there was this couple that came through and I introduced myself over the headset. They asked me to hang on for a moment so they could decide, and this was nothing out of the norm. Well, shortly after they ask for a moment, they start going all out and making out.
The guy ripped off the girl's top and started kissing her chest and everything. My manager stopped it and let them know we could see them. When they pulled up to the window I had never seen two people look more embarrassed.
There is a fancy hotel that is at the edge of our delivery zone, and tips are always really good at that place. Last night I had a big order and drove it out and stopped by the front desk to double-check the room and building. Note: This hotel is sort of a resort with lots of bungalows instead of just rooms down hallways. It’s a bit tricky to find the exact bungalow.
I am looking at the map when the “golf cart shuttle guy” comes back and tells me to just leave the pizzas and he will drop them off. This has never happened before. There are plenty of roads where I can just drive to the bungalow. The front desk guy says, “Yeah, just leave it. We will take it from here.” I just froze up and said, “Uh ok.”
As I was walking to my car, I made a furious realization. I realized the customer had already paid, but did not pre-tip on the card. Well, these two guys were obviously going to keep my tip. I called the customer and told him that the hotel was not letting me drop the pizza to him and I was sorry, but the hotel would bring it by. Then as I was about to end the call, I blurted out, “If you were going to tip, don’t give it to them. I won’t get it because they told me to go back to the store.”
We ended the call. When I got back to the shop, the manager says the customer called. “Oh god,” I thought. Maybe the customer was mad. “He said to add $10 to the credit card slip,” my manager said. I tell my manager what happened and he agreed it was weird. He decided that in the future the food would always be “handed” to the customer directly. No more hotel middleman.
I was working at a McDonald's drive-thru one day. I was at the end window, helping to take orders. This guy tried to use the drive-thru whilst he was towing a rather large boat. He made his order at the speaker and got about another three meters in before all I heard was horrible, horrible screeching and scraping sounds.
He had taken about half of the paint off one side of the boat on the brick wall. I laughed. A lot.
I worked at a local pizza parlor. We had this lady that would place an order for delivery and, after receiving her pizza, complained that the pizza wasn't what she ordered. After a few times of people just going through the motions of "the customer is always right" and giving her a free pizza, the owner got wise to it.
The next time she called, he specifically took her order. He wrote it down perfectly, had her repeat it twice, and brought the ticket to her house with the pizza she ordered. When she gave him grief about the pizza being wrong, he demonstrated how stupid she was and to never call back again. The owner was from New York, so he wasn't polite about it.
She called in later that night to complain about how the delivery person was rude and that she would be speaking to "HR" and the owner. He said, "I am HR, I am the owner, and take a hike," and then hung up. As far as I know, she never called back again.
In high school, the pizza place I worked at had this one customer we called the "light sauce lady" because she wanted only the faintest hint of sauce on her pizza. Not no sauce, but the bare minimum you could put on and still say it had sauce on it. Without fail, the first pizza we gave her was never right. We would even have the veteran managers make her food every time to try and avoid this, but she would want it remade every time.
Eventually, the store manager said that when she ordered, we would give her a decoy pizza first since we knew it would be rejected no matter what. We only used about a quarter of the full amount of cheese on that one since the cheese was by far the most expensive element of the pizza, and it was going to be thrown out anyway.
One day, our district manager, who was all about customer service, was in the store when the cook called out for a decoy pizza. The DM asked what that meant, and the store manager told him everything, thinking she was going to be in trouble. The DM ended up giving her a raise, saying that he was happy that we kept a demanding customer and kept costs down.
I was working the drive-thru at Burger King during a snowstorm. A car pulls up and the driver orders a coke with no ice. When I hand them the coke, they empty it a bit, break off a couple icicles hanging from the car, put them in the coke, and drive off without saying a word. I feel like they didn’t know that our ice is free.
This just happened today. I got a delivery to a home for the elderly, so the address should have the physical address as well as a room number. The receipt said to “CALL WHEN ARRIVED,” which isn’t very unusual in and of itself. The order was a medium hand-tossed cheese, which is super basic, but again, not weird in and of itself.
I figured that they wanted me to call because it was past the time that the house would’ve been unlocked, and maybe they would meet me at the door. I thought this was confirmed when there was no specific room number on it. My manager texted me when I was on the way to the address that the person called again and asked to call when I arrived.
Again, I figured that I would call, we’d meet at the door, and I’d be on my way, easy. I get to the address and dial the number on the receipt. A man with a stern voice answered, speaking in a demanding tone. He said, “Listen to me. You will knock on [insert name on the receipt] door, and give them the pizza.” I told him that without the room number, I wouldn’t know where to go.
He once again repeated the phrase. He told me that he ordered it for her, and she would pay in cash (it was a cash order). I started to get red flags. This was getting sketchy. I still tried justifying it to myself, thinking that maybe it was her grandson ordering for her, as it was an old lady who maybe didn’t know how to order. It got weirder when he wanted me to keep him on the phone, but I did.
I knocked, and someone was close by, so they let me in. I asked what room so and so was in, and they told me. I went there and knocked. An older lady answered the door, looking confused. The first thing that she said was, “I didn’t order pizza.” I began to realize what was happening. He asked me to hand her my phone, so I just put it on speaker.
He started with, “I’ve been looking for you [first name, last name]. Why have you been ignoring me babe.” She was confused and started asking who this was. He told her that she knew. She once again confirmed that she had no idea who he was. He demanded that she give him her cell phone number. I shook my head no, and she said, “Why would I give you my number, when I don’t even know who this is?”
He then sneered, “I am coming for you baby. I will find you.” I hung up the phone. The number was likely blocked, as he called on private when he called our store. He then proceeded to call me five times (all with “Private Caller” as the ID) with me ignoring every single one. I finally answered and told him that if he called this number again, I would be calling the authorities.
That was the last time he called. When we were off the phone, I told the woman to contact a loved one, as well as the authorities. I told her I could blacklist her address, as she never orders from our pizza place. This is the second time a stalker scenario has happened with me driving. Yikes.
So we have this guy who is one of those regulars you don’t want. Rounds DOWN change, and gets upset when we insist he pays for the entire tab. Calls and cancels about 10 minutes before the scheduled delivery time. NEVER TIPS. Oh, I got him good last night. I ended up being the “lucky” one with his order. I walk into his place of business, and they were packed.
So I walk up to this lovely non-tipper and start the handoff. The exchange went a little something like this: Me: “I have your order here, can I get you to fill out and sign this slip?” Him: grabs pen and scribbles his name. Me: “I need you to fill out all three spots, not just sign it.” Him: “Why? The original total is correct.” Me: (Rather loudly) “If you are going to stiff your driver, I’m gonna make you own it.”
This got a lot of dirty looks in his direction from not only his co-workers, but all of the customers. Let’s hope he never orders again.
I worked at McDonald's when I was younger. It was late one night and a young couple came through the drive-thru to order some food. Their food wasn't ready, so we pulled them into a parking spot while their chicken cooked. They were parked for only five to ten minutes, but I finally walked out to their car to bring them their food, the back window rolled down—and I saw something I’ll never forget.
The girl was straddling him in the back seat. Without shame, they didn't stop and the guy just said, "What do you expect, we got bored of waiting." I didn't know what to say, so I just gave them their food and walked back in. They were there for a few more minutes and then pulled away!
About a year ago, I get a 30-piece order for the local college basketball team. They always order each player some individual item, so it isn't easy. They always want each of the players’ and coaches’ names written on the box. I took an order to them a couple weeks before that was around $300 and they stiffed me, so I wasn't too keen to take it again.
Unfortunately, this order is too large for anyone else to take. I have a larger vehicle, so it would only take one trip. I bring them their $470 order to the arena where an aide or assistant coach tells me to bring them down three flights of stairs. I'm at the end of my shift, and it takes me four trips to get everything down there. They then ask me to help display it out and tell them whose is what, even though it has their names written on it.
I. AM. DONE. WITH. THIS. SHIFT. I’m polite and courteous because I believe in good customer service, and I don't look at the tip line until I get back to my vehicle. Written out is $0.00. I've spent the last hour doing nothing but making, boxing, and delivering their order. I told my manager I would never take a delivery to them again, and they could come pick it up if they don't want to tip for a big and highly personalized order like that.
This happened several years ago, and I won't go into a ton of detail because Google exists and I don't want to point an arrow to where it happened by saying too much. I had worked at a big pizza chain for almost a year at this point, so I was aware of a lot of the dangers of the job, but this instance really made it sink in with a terrifying chill.
A girl had been reported missing in our area under super suspicious circumstances. It was a big deal in a relatively small town where things like that don't happen super frequently. It was all over the news, billboards were being put up, the whole shebang. We had state officers, other county officers, and federal investigators all in town to help.
A few weeks after the initial report, they announce an arrest. They had the guy, no question that he was the one who did it. When I got to work that day, someone asked me if I had seen the announcement. I hadn't yet, so I pulled up the news article on my phone. My blood went cold. I know that name. I know that address. I know that face.
A month or so prior, I had delivered to this guy. His apartment complex was a few blocks down the road. To add to the creep factor, this dude lived in a complex with several buildings where each one had a locked door to get into the building. It's full of young kids who are almost always ignorant and rowdy when they order and I'd had issues there before.
Due to that, I made a point to always have customers come and meet me at the main door as opposed to being buzzed in and going to their unit door. Usually, it wasn't a huge deal, but this dude really tried to press the issue and had several excuses as to why he couldn't come down, saying that I needed to come up. Each one was met with "company policy doesn't allow me to do that" until he finally caved and came down.
He was less than enthused, but paid for his pizza and I went about my way. As a female, and given that this happened within a few weeks of him kidnapping and slaying the other girl, I am so immensely grateful for all the morons who caused me to stop going inside of the buildings at this complex.
On the Fourth of July, my then-girlfriend and I were at the drive-thru at McDonald's, and the guy working the window expressed his disappointment that he wasn't able to see the city fireworks. We felt bad for him, so we gave him a few boxes of sparklers we had so he could light them up after work. The guy was ecstatic, and his nearby coworkers were happy as well. They all planned to burn the sparklers with him.
Suddenly, the manager came over, pushed through the workers, and in a forced voice of politeness, he asked us what was going on. When we told him we felt bad for his workers and that we gave them some fireworks, he said, "Uh-huh" in a tone suggesting we were full of it. He then proceeded to yell at his crew like they were a bunch of little kids who had gotten into a stranger's van for a promise of candy later.
I don't know how long we sat there, but the entire time, the manager tore them all a new one. It wasn't like he said anything coherent; he just kept swearing with nothing to be picked out as to why this had set him off. We finally drove off after a minute or two, and both of us were quite convinced our attempt to be nice was getting them all fired. We never saw any of that crew again when we went back, so maybe they were let go.
I’m a delivery girl. I was going on a delivery around 9:30 pm and I pulled into the neighborhood with someone behind me. As I approach the house, I put on my hazards a little earlier because this car was driving decently close to me. I park in front of the driveway and the car stops behind me. It was already a little weird because I was parked on the “wrong” side, so they were also on the oncoming traffic side.
I thought maybe I parked in front of their driveway so I started driving away so they could pull in. Nope. They started driving too. Now I need to turn around and I don’t want to be a jerk and do a three-point turn with them behind me, so I pull into a cul-de-sac and loop around and they follow me. I’m starting to get freaked out, so I go into another long cul-de-sac.
They stopped at the “main” street when I turned in. I wait at the cul-de-sac for a minute and call my manager at the store and tell him to stay on phone with me as I think I’m being followed but am not sure yet. As soon as I see them follow me into the cul-de-sac, I immediately start driving back to the store. I’m terrified by this point.
Every red light I hit, I’m taking a right turn and then U-turning because I thought they might try to crash into me and kidnap me or something. They follow me all the way back to the store, where I park in the back and run inside. The authorities show up soon after. Turns out it was a stupid Karen who thought I was suspicious. For what???? Putting my hazards on and parking in front of a house?
I wasn’t driving badly before that either. Thanks for terrorizing me and wasting my time.
Oh boy, do I have a doozy. One time, about 15 minutes before close, we had a guy drive up and ask for 30 Mama Burgers. I cringed at the amount of extra work that was just given, but whatever—we were still open, so we had to do it. I asked him if he wanted cheese on the burgers and his response was "I don't freaking care."
My supervisor, the only other dude up at the front with me, decided that now would be a good time to run and help the back-staff with making burgers, leaving me all alone to deal with what was surely about to be a very angry individual. But what actually happened is not what I expected at all. I took the guy's money and tried to hide around the milkshake machine out of sight.
When I peeked over to check on him, I was shocked—he started BEATING THE HECK out of his own car. I'm not kidding. He was throwing punches to his windshield as hard as he could. Then, I heard him start throwing stuff out of his window and onto the ground. Obviously, I wasn't close enough to see what it was he was throwing out, but after he got his food and drove off, we looked outside to see that it was car parts that he had smashed.
There were parts of the handle on his shifter, the vents, a volume knob, and various other bits and pieces all over the road. I get so confused just thinking about it. The dude had to have been on something. That is the only way I can reconcile car-smashing and buying 30 hamburgers in one short period of time.
This story is about my husband, as he used to deliver pizza when we lived in Florida. So, one night, the pizzeria got a delivery order for a pizza with mayonnaise on the side. Weird, but okay. And it was to be delivered to a hotel room. Fine. So, he gets there, and the woman asked for him to put it on the table in the room while she got her money.
Not the first time that happened, so whatever. As soon as he put it down, the woman literally GRABBED MY HUSBAND! She started telling him how she was getting old, and she was so alone and how she just wanted a man for...you know. He turned his head just as she went in to kiss him. Instead of on the lips, she got his eye. Startled, she backed up by one step, which was enough for my husband to get away from her.
He ran to his truck, didn't even bother buckling up, and sped back to the pizzeria. He was only out of the store less than 10 minutes. He got back and told everyone what happened, including me, since I was a waitress there. For YEARS the running joke was that she didn't want mayonnaise, she wanted "Man-aize." He said if ANYONE ever ordered that again, he refused to take it.
Obviously, every time I ordered a pizza for delivery, I asked for mayonnaise on the side...
So first off, I deliver sandwiches and the company I work for prides itself on accuracy and speed. Got it? Good. I work at a store right off of a university campus, which has some decent shortcuts sometimes, especially if that person lives on the other side of campus. Just a few nights ago, we got a delivery for one of these addresses, and I knew just where it was.
It was my old apartment complex! I'd be there and back in a jiffy, no questions asked. So I set off across the campus—when I realize my terrible mistake. There's a basketball game just letting out, and the whole university is a parking lot now. I wait and I wait to inch my way across the grounds. Short of driving up on the sidewalk, there's no way I'm turning around or getting past it, so I call into the store and let them know the situation in case Mr. Sandwich calls looking for his food.
After what seems like an eternity, I arrive at the complex. Bounding up the steps, I give the door a quick but firm knock and prepare my speech. You know, a, “Hey, sorry about your wait, apparently there's a basketball game tonight and traffic is horrible, etc etc.” I wait a second more and the door opens. First thing I notice is the smell of weed, and the second I notice is that the guy standing in front of me is super stoned.
Like out of his mind, eyes sealed shut. I don't mind. I hand him his food, tell him the thing, and he waves it off as no big deal and goes inside. Of course, I take a faster route back, and as I go to tap back in, I look at the address. My heart drops out of my chest. The address distinctly says 24th Ave. Where did I go? Oh yeah, 27th. Oh, heck. Must have gone on autopilot. Now this guy needs new food, and someone just got a freebie.
My manager understands but tells me to call and ask them if their driver has arrived, and then tell them they're sending someone else out. I get on the horn and wait, and then I hear a very familiar, very out of it voice. It’s the same guy. I ask if the driver has gotten there yet, and the voice says, "Yeah, he did. It's not a big deal, I told him it's cool. " So I thank him and hang up. And that’s how I delivered to the right house at the wrong address.
When I was in high school, I worked at Chick-Fil-A. A week or so before Thanksgiving, I was working with one of my closest friends, Cassie. This guy came through and ordered a small chocolate shake with no whipped cream, no cherry. Cassie was working the window that night, so the guy pulled up and she did the whole, "Hey there, you had a chocolate shake, no toppings? Your total is $2.98."
The guy confirmed and gave her his credit card. She swiped it, grabbed a straw, his receipt, and the shake, then went over to hand him all of these things. When she leaned out of the window, she noticed he had his "member" out of his pants. He was also creepily smiling at her. Fortunately, Cassie reacted pretty quickly and got the plate number. Our manager on duty called the authorities.
But it doesn't end there! The next week, officers found the guy and confirmed his identity with Cassie. So, of course, they were going to go to his house and charge him. Hilariously enough, they chose to do it on Thanksgiving. They got to his house and he had a wife and kids, and apparently, it came as a shock because he "goes to church every week."
Even BETTER—Cassie was a few months shy of 18 at the time, so he ended up getting charged with exposing himself to a minor (or something along those lines). Enjoy the registry, perv!
I work at a corporate pizza place and to be honest, I rather enjoy it. But, this night was one of the most bizarre nights. We had a guy order $150 worth of food online. Alright, whatever. We make it and I send the driver on his way. The delivery is at a hotel. The driver reads the delivery instructions that the customer wrote. It said, "deliver to room/lobby."
The driver proceeds to walk into the lobby, and is about to call the customer to see what they wanted and what room, as they never said which room. The hotel staff know us very well by now and said, "Oh you are delivering to this room, they are having a birthday party." So the driver goes to that room and delivers it to a room full of little girls partying.
I get a call five minutes later from the customer. He explains to me that he is very upset that the driver delivered to the room and did not follow his instructions word for word. Just to be clear, we did deliver to the right room. I explained our side and said the instructions were unclear and we know the staff at the hotel, but that I understand. His reaction rendered me nearly speechless.
He then starts flipping out. He said he "didn't want some nasty driver entering a room full of underage girls." I was stunned. The driver in question is one of the best, has two kids of his own, etc. We do background checks before hiring as well. I explained this to him. Then he said, "I don't care, I want a full refund.” I said no. This guy proceeds to go full blast on me, calling me names, etc.
Eventually, to get off the phone because orders were piling up, I said, "Sir, if you are going to be like this, I will hang up since this is going nowhere." He called me another name and hung up. Five minutes later, he called back wanting to talk to the manager. I said I am the manager. Then he went balls to the wall again about how he didn't know what the driver would do to the girls and he doesn't know our driver.
I said, “Well, I know our driver and he would never. I said I understand your concern as a father, but we would not hire someone who we thought would do that." Eventually, he hung up after repeating, "I don't know what he'd do to the girls" because he could see I was not going to give him a refund for such a weak argument. Truly, I think he made something up to see if he could get his money back and he chose the wrong story to go with and the wrong driver to accuse.
An old redneck, probably tipsy, pulled up in a pick-up truck at 1 am and ordered about four steak items at Taco Bell. We had the worst manager working that night, so of course, we were out of steak, and he didn't tell me this until I'd already cashed the old redneck out. He was kind of mad, but I offered him a refund with the manager's approval.
The manager came over and started screaming at me, saying stuff like "Are you stupid? You can't give him back his money" and the redneck completely hulked out. He launched himself through the window, screaming: "Don't talk to young girls that way! You are a jerk who makes young girls cry to feel better about your tiny pee-pee." I was trying to shut the window on him but I couldn't.
The manager actually took a couple of punches and got fired later on in the week because he took like $500 from the company.
I am normally pretty chill with customers. If you're short 50 cents, no sweat. However, if a customer is gaming the system or being a jerk, I become Mr. Rules, the pettiest driver in the world. So a customer tonight calls five minutes before we close and orders triple-cooked wings, among other things. Triple cooked wings take at MINIMUM 21 minutes to make.
Not 10 minutes into the order, said jerk customer calls back and asks why it is taking so long. His food finally comes out and I leave. I roll up on his ratty trailer and he's standing outside. I tell him the total, $21.26. He hands me a crumpled 20, a 1, and a single quarter. He then looks at me, and I quote: "I ain't got a penny, you'll just have to spot me.” I then, in my best customer service voice, tell him that I can't give him his food unless I get the full amount.
He didn't like that. Started cussing me out and threatening me. I simply told him to have a good night, handed his money back to him, got in my car, and drove back to the store.
I started working at a coffee house and I had some guy come through the drive-thru and order a small iced coffee. No big deal; I got the drink and his total. The guy paid for it and everything. But when I handed the drink out to him and told him to have a good day, he proceeded to throw the coffee at me. This all happened in slow motion and I managed to catch it without it spilling everywhere.
The guy sat there with the dumbest look on his face I've ever seen. He sped off but I managed to get his plate number.
As of today, if you're under the age of "child” and you go to pay for a pizza, I'm going to tell you "get your parent or whoever placed the order." Here's why. So to start this off, I was closing on Saturday. I got off work at 11:30 pm, and then I had a pretty serious issue come up, so I go to bed around 3 am. Also, I was opening driver the next day, so I got back there at 9:30 am.
So I'm not like SLEEPY but I'm not 100% there. This is relevant later. It's an insanely slow day at work. Like, we had no real orders apart from the random one every 45 minutes or so until like 2 pm. I deliver a few and it's all good, until I get a single to some super close house. I deliver it as usual, and I see someone looking over the window on the door.
"WHO IS IT." I hate this. I'm carrying two dinner boxes, wearing a Pizza Hut hat, a Pizza Hut shirt, and you ordered pizza 20 minutes ago. But, you know, customer service. "It's Pizza Hut!" I intentionally crack my voice because I'm a little befuddled that this man is looking at me in the eye. So he walks away and I'm out there for a minute or two.
I figure he's just grabbing his wallet, or maybe putting a dog in a cage or something. Then the door opens and it's a little girl. I'm not sure if she was the one that ordered the pizza or the dad is too busy to answer the door now but I accept it and I give her the food. "It's $34.47." She hands me $40. "Great, would you like any change?" "Uhh…I don't know."
I'm having a bad day, so I'm kind of less willing to just be like “screw it.” "Okay. Well if you wanna leave a tip, that's up to you, but if not, then I'll give you back the $5." "I wanna leave a tip." "How much?" "$8" "You can't do that, you'd need to give me more money for that." "Keep the change then." "Cool, thank you so much! Have a good day!"
Vroom vroom, your boy finally has a not bad tip. Fantastic. I drive back to the store and chill out waiting for the second order of my double to come out. Then an angry couple comes into the store while I'm talking to the other driver. I'm oblivious to this as I'm not all the way there. My manager comes up to me and asks, "Who took this order?" with the address written down.
I say that I did and pull up the ticket, thinking maybe it was a phone call and I forgot something. But there they are, two grown parents, in our Pizza Hut location not long after I got back, with angry looks on their faces. I don't look at them because this manager isn't super experienced with the driver systems, so I figured she just needed help figuring out how to find the ticket.
Then the magic of customer service begins again. "ARE YOU THE ONE THAT DELIVERED OUR PIZZA." "Yup!" Note that at this point, I'm stuck in customer service mode. Nothing fazes me. Not just because I'm working as a delivery driver but because I have had very little restful sleep. I'm literally not processing that they're angry, I’m just processing them as customers I have to deal with before my shift ends.
"YOU TOOK OUR MONEY WHY DIDN'T YOU GIVE US BACK OUR CHANGE YOU JUST LEFT." "Your daughter gave me a tip. I asked her if she wanted to leave a tip and she said yes." "SHE'S NOT STUPID WHY WOULD SHE DO THAT." "I don't know." "GIVE US OUR MONEY BACK." "Can do! Let me just pull it from my box!" Apparently, during this time, they were talking about beating my butt and how I'm a horrible employee and something about my stutter, but I honestly was so tired I didn't hear a thing.
I go to my box and I search for the worst $1 bills I can find. I carefully straighten them out to make sure they're nice and presentable (read: wasting time because I'm literally going from a $5 tip to getting stiffed) and walk back with a big smile on my face. "Here you go! Sorry for the trouble!" Silence. I'm staring at this man for what was about two seconds but what felt like a minute. "You can leave now." "All right, thank you sir!"
With my customer service grin afoot, I went back to where I was standing before and hopped back on my phone, waiting for them to leave so I could be like "here's what happened" to my manager. I wanted them to know so they didn't just assume I was a jerk.
Like, it's not my fault that you're too scared to answer the door for pizza so you make your kid do it instead. Then you throw a fit over it and DRIVE TO THE STORE to complain about it. If a kid is going to answer the door, tell them, "Make sure you get $5 in change" or something. Or ANSWER YOUR OWN DOOR LIKE AN ADULT. I swear to god I'm waiting for a kid to drop something so I can be like, "Welp that's your fault goodbye."
Luckily, since my general manager wasn't in, we were all just like "what the heck," which eventually turned into "what jerks” and then the drivers all agreed that people who send their kids to answer doors unsupervised are bad people. So I'm over that now. And if anyone tries to complain about it, I'll just tell them I was almost targeted over a kid giving me a tip when their parents didn't want them to.
When I was working my first job at Dairy Queen, I had the "pleasure" of encountering a special sort of stupid. I was in this lovely part of the country that is nicknamed "Tornado Alley" for a reason that completely escapes me, but it may have something to do with these funny-shaped, spinning clouds that like to tip over trailer parks.
Anyway, we had a huge storm pop up on an otherwise lovely day during which there hadn't been a cloud in the sky. Frankly, it caught the local forecasters by surprise too—they were calling for a sunny weekend. So I was at work and the wind picked up so fiercely that we had people come into our store just to get off the road. The wind was blowing hard enough that it was pushing cars around.
The weather radio chimed in that a funnel cloud was spotted at the intersection of two highways in the town, maybe two miles from our store, and that's when we heard the sirens start sounding. We all took shelter in the cemented-into-the-foundation walk-in cooler. While inside, we continued to hear the sirens blaring, and the wind was blowing so hard that the building was shaking. That’s when it happened.
Suddenly, those of us with headsets heard a ding sound: "Yeah, I'd like to order one of your chicken strip baskets and a large strawberry dipped cone... Hello? Hello??" What followed was a somewhat surreal argument that I, wearing a headset, got to witness as my manager tried to urge the guy to come inside and take shelter.
The guy then argued back with her, asking why nobody would take his order...Sure buddy, screw the forming tornado, you need your chicken ASAP. We got lucky and the funnel never touched down, but there was some pretty bad wind damage all along that part of town by the time the storm was done, not to mention a lot of hail damage.
Still, the thing about that storm I will remember most is the idiot who decided to risk life and limb for some chicken and ice cream...
I work part-time as a pizza delivery driver on the weekends. I'm not struggling to the point that I NEED to do it, but I have a two-year-old daughter who I send to a VERY expensive school ($1000+ a month...), so every little bit helps. Last Sunday, I had a stuffed crust pizza order come in at 8:59 pm, and we close at 9 pm. In case you didn’t know, that takes at least 35 minutes JUST to cook.
Usually this is annoying, but I was in a good mood, so I just sat in my car and listened to some podcasts while I waited. When it was done, I noticed that the customer was paying cash and it was actually on the way home. It was only a $33 dollar order, so I decided I would just pay for out of pocket and then deliver it. That way I wouldn't have to come back to the store after I delivered it. I found out this was a very bad idea soon enough.
When I get to the house, the customer comes to the door with a credit card in her hand. Suddenly, I realize we are going to have a problem. Since the store closed nearly an hour ago, I know that nobody is going to be there to answer the phones, so I can't charge her card over the phone. I explain this to her as I try to figure out what to do.
Eventually, I decide to just give her the pizza and ask that she just bring the cash into the store tomorrow. I mean, I KNOW where she lives, so I figure I can trust her. The next day, I stop in the shop to see if she dropped off the money. She didn't. I figured she just didn't get a chance yet. I didn't work until the following Friday, so I decided to just wait until then.
Friday comes, and still nothing. The next day I worked was Sunday, exactly one week after I dropped the pizza off. The owner came up to me with a red envelope. Inside it was a "Thank You" card and some cash....a lot of cash. There was also a rather long note. Its contents broke my heart. The gist of it was that the customer was extremely grateful for me trusting her, but there was so much more.
Apparently that day she had her sister over, who currently has cancer and is going through chemo. She is rarely hungry, but that day, she was actually craving OUR pizza. She says that she will never forget how trusting I was and that I really helped make her sister feel better. The bill was $33. Inside the envelope was $104. Today, I did the right thing.
When I was working at a McDonald's in high school, there was a fad where people would go through, order a drink, and then throw it back into the window. Well, one time, someone tried it but forgot to take the lid off. When he threw it at me, I finally got revenge for the months of persecution. I reflexively volleyball-spiked back towards his car. The cup hit the window, opened up, and spilled all over this guy's car.
And by that, I mean all over his lap, his seat, and his dashboard. He looked down, then back at me, and said: "Dang...you got me good." Then he drove off.
I know getting the “nookie for pizza” offer is everyone’s greatest dream when they enter the delivery profession, and you know what, it was mine too. But not anymore. I was working the morning shift (11-4) and this was my second to last delivery of the shift. You need to understand something: We have a bunch of high school drivers who don’t really want to be working.
They don’t get out of their cars and just park in front of the house and honk. When the customer doesn’t come out, they just leave. So the boss instituted a new rule that if you don’t make a reasonable attempt to deliver the pizza, you’re paying for it. Besides that, it’s usually a chill place to work for, and the only place within our zone that hasn’t been gentrified or bought out by the university yet is this sketchy pay-by-hour motel.
Well, that’s where my second-to-last delivery was to. Because most of our drivers are minors and women, I usually get the deliveries out there to that motel. But it’s no big deal because it’s mostly college kids and couples who order pizza down there. Plus, this particular order was for 15 pizzas, so I was anticipating a big tip. This time though, I knew something wasn’t right when I pulled up.
The door was cracked open and there were a lot of trash bits by the door, even for this place. I just got that “don’t go into the basement” sense. As I approached the door, I could see some broken glass and what looked to be human waste on the floor. Guard immediately went fully up. I knocked and announced myself, and a voice says something I can’t make out.
So I just repeat, “Please come to the door and collect your order.” Then I hear it. “I’M SCREWING SOMEONE, ARE YOU DEAF?” I figured I must have misheard. And no way was I about to eat the tab for 15 pizzas, so I had to be able to say with certainty I did everything I could to try and deliver. So I’m standing there, hearing creaking and moaning and worrying I did not mishear.
I’m waiting for him to show with the money and then he says, “You coming or what?” I didn’t think he was talking to me so I just stood there. “COME IN HERE” Haha, nah. I’m good right out here where there are witnesses. I said, “Can’t do that bud, can you hand me the money out here please?” unintelligible rambling I figure I’ll stand there three more minutes and if he hasn’t surfaced I’d mark the order as "unable to deliver".
Just as I’m about to turn and go, a guy FLINGS the door open and he’s completely undressed. He’s an older guy and looked rough, but I’ve seen worse delivering, so I just keep my eyes above the equator and, from a healthy distance, request payment first. He says, “Well, don’t got any.” Alright. Got my valid excuse to not deliver the pizzas. Ready to nope out.
So as I’m backing away, he goes, “WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT” twitching and smacking the side of his head. Thankfully at this point, he wrapped a sweatshirt around his waist. Then he goes in a drawer hands me a freaking Rolex. I’m 95% sure it’s fake, because it came from a drawer of like 10 of them, but it looked cool as heck, very convincing.
So I figured I’m holding in my hands the best Father’s Day present I’ll ever give. Let me just try and convince my boss they refused to pay. If he drives over, he’ll see the place is a complete den of danger. But it doesn’t end there. The guy says “You indistinguishable shouting and cursing put them down.” I thought maybe he was hallucinating, but I realized he meant bring the pizzas inside because he kept gesturing to the countertop.
I figure I could practically reach it from through the open door and it was technically my job, so I started loading them in, and that’s when it happened. A woman came out of the bathroom, dressed in only a crop top, and walks right up to me. THE STENCH PEOPLE. It hit me like a wall. It was like curdled milk and pool cleaner. I almost vomited it was so immediate and strong.
I pick up all the remaining pizzas at once, put them down, and they’re whispering. Whispering is never good. Time to go. Shouldn’t have stayed this long. As I’m setting down the pizzas, dude says, “Give back the watch. You can sleep with her. You can, go ahead. Go ahead. Go ahead. She’s warmed up. Go ahead. Go ahead.” I was so dumbstruck at how nauseating this all was that I froze up for a second.
Then she put her hand on my shoulder and I LEAPT up and got out of there as fast as I’ve ever gone anywhere in my life. Of course, no one believed me when I went back to the shop and said the customer offered to let me sleep with his girl for payment. My boss was like, “If you didn’t feel safe delivering, just man up about it and don’t make up a wild fantasy.”
But no matter how explicit I got, they did not grasp there was nothing fantastical about it. So I have shared here now and we all know the real story is not the blonde bikini model dream my co-workers are picturing.
I’d been having a really busy night, non-stop back and forth, without any time to even pause and go to the bathroom. I’d been so busy that I wasn’t even thinking about bathroom breaks. But we were also going through a bit of a heatwave in our area, so I’d been drinking copious amounts of water. All of a sudden as I was driving to this particular delivery, the urge to go hit me.
Like, things went from 0 to 60 in an instant. Thankfully I was close to the customer so could get this one over with quickly. Or so I thought. I pulled up to the house, and it was an area I’d delivered in before, so I could immediately see that something wasn’t right. All the lights were off in the house, not even the glow of a television or anything.
It was extra apparent because the streetlight closest to the door happened to be out of order. And on top of it all, the block was super quiet. This is a big university area, and obviously there aren’t many student renters in July, but there had to be at least one person, because someone ordered this pizza. Maybe they just liked sitting in the dark or they were out back in the yard, whatever.
I just didn’t want to get out of my car and knock on a quiet house in the middle of the night (around 9:30pm) without first checking that I had the correct address and the customer was inside. It was scorching that night, even after sundown. My car’s A/C is a joke, and the piping hot pizzas don’t help things much, so I have to try and open the car door as infrequently as possible to keep any cool air in.
I called the number the customer provided and the voice on the other end said, kind of brusquely and out of breath, “Yah?” I just tried to keep it clear and concise, “Hey, it’s your pizza out front but there doesn’t appear to be anybody home?” And the customer replied, still gasping for air, “Yah, I’m not home." I had to pee so badly by that point that I was much less patient than I’d otherwise be with a customer right out of the gate.
“Well, then we’re going to have to terminate the order, because I’ve arrived in the stated delivery window and you were supposed to pay in cash, so, I don’t know what to tell you. Plan ahead next time.” I instantly regretted letting my bladder do the talking for me as the voice on the other end came through more clearly as a young, bubbly, and very distraught girl who couldn’t have been older than 20 or 25.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I was running down the street so I could barely hear you!” She cried, “I just switched you out of my Air Pods. Is that better? Sorry, I completely lost track of time at work, but I knew you were coming, that’s why I’m literally running home right now. Please don’t leave, I’m starving and I don’t have a car. Seriously, please don’t leave. Five minutes tops, ok?”
I know what it’s like to be hungry, and running late, and have no car but not live near any restaurants. Plus when I heard her voice I began to remember more specifically having delivered to this place a couple times before, and she’d always been perfectly nice. Now I felt bad for snapping at her. I tried to walk it back, while simultaneously looking out my window for potential spots to pee.
“No, no, my bad, I’m letting the heat get to me and it’s not your fault. No need to rush. See you when you get here.” I hung up and, while watching the street, was starting to think I was really out of luck. All the other houses had people in them, and were close together, so there were no clumps of trees or out of the way patches of land or anything.
Of course, I had just tossed my empty water bottle at the last delivery, because I’m an idiot. I had to resort to drastic measures. Finally, I decided it was escalating to the point of an emergency, and the safest bet was to use a bush in front of the woman’s house. She wasn’t home, after all. The streetlight was out so no one would see me.
The people who were home were inside. My car was parked across the street and we’re a small shop who don’t wear uniforms, so if someone did spot me, they’d have no way to connect me to my employer. Animals pee outside all the time, humans are animals...this is fine. I scurried over to the tallest bush in her front yard. She didn’t really have much of a yard, more just a walkway lined with bushes and flowers that ran adjacent to her front door.
The biggest cluster of bushes, the only one where I could be sure there would be no visible splatter on the side of the house, was about four feet from her door. I looked both ways, unzipped, and let fly. After the initial millisecond of relief, I noticed the sound was way off, more like pissing on something solid than something leafy. I started panicking.
I was thinking I’d aimed wrong. But once I start, I can’t stop mid-stream, so I kept squinting into the darkness to see if maybe I was hitting a key rock or something and could just move a few inches over. Instead, all of a sudden, I heard a way more concerning noise. A deep voice exclaiming, “What the heck?” And before I could turn around, assuming I’d been caught by a neighbor, a man came leaping out of the bushes.
He blew by me, brushing my golden shower off him as did. He spit pretty emphatically on the ground, so I think I might’ve beaned him right in the face. I didn’t see where he went after a few paces but, though this next part is kind of a blur, I do think I remember hearing a car screech out from a bit further away after a minute.
I’d gotten some night vision by that point so I was able to make out his height, build, and outfit, but only the most general details of each. I was in such shock that I didn’t even pull my pants up. I just stood there trying to figure out what had happened. The reality was so terrifying that my mind refused to accept it. Instead, I impulsively searched for a reasonable explanation that could make everything okay.
I thought, “Could these bushes lead to some backyard area and just looked like they were against the house? Could they have been obscuring an open window?” My inner voice was desperately screaming, “Bruh that man was wearing a hoodie in 90-degree weather. That was a bad man. You’re in a bad situation.” But the very idea that I was within inches of a guy who would be hiding in bushes at all, let alone in front of a young woman’s house at night, just wasn’t something I was ready to grapple with yet.
I was coping by not coping. My fight or flight response totally failed me at that point, because my dumb brain did the absolute last thing I should have done, and I approached the bushes to try and validate this “There must have been a good reason for a man in a hoodie to be behind these bushes in the middle of the night” theory. So I walked over to the side, turned on my phone flashlight, and tried to peer around the line of shrubbery.
Pro tip: As scary as things may look in the dark, seeing them with a single beam of your flashlight can sometimes make it even worse. That’s when I saw the bag. There was a tattered drawstring bag sitting behind the bushes, slightly splashed with pee. But I was in such a moronic daze from shock that I groped around for it thinking, “See? This is it, this will explain why he was back here.” Oh, it explained it.
Once I maneuvered it over and pulled it open, I saw a sharp knife, a roll of duct tape, and a bottle of pills. The delusions officially broke at that point and all the adrenaline, endorphins, and self-preservation instincts that had been suppressed kicked in ten times over. I became whatever the opposite of dazed is. More laser-focused than I have ever been in my life, with one singular goal: “Get back to my car.”
I dropped the bag, booked it across the street, got in my car, and slammed the pedal to the floor before the door was even all the way closed. I went as far as I could as fast as I could until I hit a red signal, then I pulled off to the side and realized I shouldn’t be driving anymore than necessary in the condition I was in. I pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour pharmacy and took a breath.
I was finally calm and coherent enough to zip up. Then I formulated a plan of action. My first lucid thought was, “Who do I call first, the authorities or the girl whose house that was?” I thought about it for what couldn’t have really been more than 10 seconds, but felt like an hour, and decided “Ok. I am in my locked car with the engine running. If trouble starts, I can drive away. I know something’s up, she might not, and she needs to know not to keep walking in that direction.”
But as I was dialing her number, a more disturbing thought occurred to me. “What if there was no girl?” I thought I remembered delivering to that house before, but what if I was wrong? What if the girl on the phone was just a decoy to get me there to rob me, or worse? Every pizza guy on the planet has seen the Evil Genius documentary by now, so I thought, “She called me all out of breath. She wasn’t home. The whole thing was off, can’t risk it, I’ll start with the authorities.
I called 9-1-1. The operator was very helpful in keeping me calm, because I was a complete wreck by this point. He kept assuring me that someone would be there soon. I kept telling them they had to get there before the girl did, but I was trying to express three thoughts at once, and really damaging my own credibility by the end of it.
It came out more as: “You’ve got to save this girl because he wasn’t after me I was just delivering a pizza. Unless they were after me, in which case there might not be a girl, but I talked to one on the phone, so then you should find that girl because they used her to lure me there. But if she’s real she doesn’t know about the guy, who was also real, and there could be more guys if there’s actually a girl, and you know what? Even if there isn’t a girl there might actually be more guys. I only checked one part of the bushes so I don’t actually know. But we’ll know which guy is the one I saw because I peed all over him, you know. I didn’t mean to, this was back when I thought the girl was real but not home, but she might be real so you really need to find her if she is because the guy was real—”
Finally they basically just asked me to stop talking and stay on the line. But that was when I saw an incoming call from the customer. I couldn’t answer it without disrupting my 9-1-1, so I just ignored it. My problems just got worse. Then she sent me this text like, “Hey I’m here, don’t see you?” I told 9-1-1 she was there and they said officers were only minutes away.
But who knows how long that meant? Especially after I’d given such a scattered account of the events in my panic. I just felt overwhelmed with guilt. Because my rational mind said the odds of her being a decoy girl for some large scam targeting pizza guys were low and the odds of her being the intended victim of a predator were high.
So I put my 9-1-1 call on mute (where I can hear them but they can’t hear me) and turned back, heart absolutely pounding out of my chest. Then I took 9-1-1 off mute and told them I had returned to look for the girl. They weren’t happy about that, but I saw her meandering past the parked cars in the street looking to see if one was mine, and I waved her down, flashing my brights.
She bounced on over to the window of my car, happy-go-lucky. I figured that was a good sign that she wasn’t in on whatever this was. But I was just so scared to be back in the general area and to not know what had just happened or what was going to happen. I kept whispering “Get in. Get in!” And she was like, “Get it? Huh? Oh! You want me to get the pizza from the back?”
I didn’t want to make the same mistake with her that I had made with 9-1-1, so instead of trying to tell the whole story, I stuck to the bare basic facts. “There was a man in your bushes. I’m on the phone with the authorities. I don’t know where he is right now. Please get in the car so we can lock the doors.” I was barely able to get even those sentences out, and I was shaking like I’d had 10 cups of black coffee.
I held up my phone with 9-1-1 on the call screen to verify it for her. I thought that was why she got in the car with no further explanation, but it turns out that wasn’t entirely it. “You still there? Is she with you? Are you safe? Is anyone else there?” 9-1-1 kept checking in, not knowing who the third party I was talking to was. I reassured them, and we drove, more cautiously this time, to a location 9-1-1 instructed us to wait at to speak with officers after they cleared the area.
I didn’t actually have to do much after that. The officers came pretty soon after, a car met us, I gave a statement telling them everything I observed, and she went to go speak to more officers in more detail than they needed me for. It turns out the reason she got right into a strange pizza guy’s car without probing any deeper into my story is because she knew who the man was right away from my description.
She had an ex-boyfriend who was apparently psychotic enough that he immediately came to mind from hearing “There’s a guy in your bushes.” She later called us to thank me and insist on leaving a huge tip. I wasn’t there when the call came in so the kid who answered didn’t know to refuse the money. But the manager already promised the next time we see her we can load her up with enough “one free pie” cards to last a lifetime.
Easily the scariest thing that has ever happened to me, on the job or off. I don’t get the chance to tell the story much, because I try to avoid sharing it with anyone who could possibly know the girl or know of the event. But I’m still not the same since. Even though I know he didn’t even have anything to do with me directly, this truly shook me to my core. Be safe out there guys. Anything can happen.
When I delivered pizzas in college, there was a legend about this really big guy who would call up and order 100 hot wings at a time. While that was impressive, the legendary part was his explanation of how to make them. He would tell whoever picked up the phone: "Make them so hot that it burns when I take a poo.” This guy was apparently disgusting and didn't tip well either.
I spent all summer hoping to get a delivery to him, and finally, I did. As he opened the door, I got a shock so bad I’m still not sure I’ve ever recovered. The legendary capsaicin capper was my estranged lunatic uncle. The last time I had seen him was when he shattered a dining chair at Thanksgiving about a decade earlier. He was nuts and outright mean.
It was mortifying going back to the pizzeria and having everyone ask me how terrible he was.
I worked in McDonald's before I went to university. There was this one man who came through the drive-thru—he was in his late 30s and was clearly a farmer from the look of his vehicle and his dog in the back. He was always pretty quiet, but I remember a couple of times that he tried to make nice small talk. When I worked on New Year's, he asked me how things were and said I should be out having fun my age.
I remember thinking he always seemed really lonely or sad when he drove through since he'd always try to carry a conversation with me. I felt bad having to be quick with him because he just seemed like he wanted someone to talk to. Long story short, he drove through one day and asked if my last name was what he thought it was. After a sideways glance from my manager, I said it was.
He looked really sad and took his hat off. Then he said something that shocked me to my core. He told me that he was my dad. My biological mother didn't know who my dad was, so it was possible. My manager let me go on break to speak with him. He then explained that he slept with my mother around the time that she got pregnant, and he was only 16. He was really apologetic and also seemed ashamed of what he did.
He told me he was sorry he didn't seek me out. He was from a town about an hour's drive away, so that was a part of it. And no one ever showed up to tell him he was a dad or anything. I told him I was happy with my life, but I still gave him my number and told him to give me a ring sometime. So yeah, that's how I met my dad. My biological dad, I should say.
After a few years when I heard from my biological mother again, she agreed that he was who she thought the father was. We went out for coffee three or four times, but we didn't have much to talk about. He and I never really maintained contact—the last time we spoke, he told me he'd been diagnosed with MS. He had a couple of sons, but I was his only daughter and he said that he was grateful we had met.
Back in the 90s, I worked as a pizza driver in Seattle for a gourmet pizza place. Our delivery area was downtown, among a few other neighborhoods. It had everything from millionaire high rollers to working-class stiffs and low-income rent-controlled buildings with people so poor that I wondered why they wanted our overpriced pizza. One customer stood out among the crowd as the worst ever—Bannick.
He was a creature unlike any other. He tipped okay, never gave anyone a problem, and never complained—however, his legend grew slowly. I had heard a few rumors about a really weird, creepy situation that a couple of drivers had, but no specifics. A few weeks later, my best friend, who also worked at this store with me said, "I've just seen the Bannick". He visibly shuddered and said, "I almost threw up, oh, the smell"!
We went about our lives, busy as usual. My friend would remark upon the smell from time to time, but that was it. According to him, the apartment was dark, and you couldn't see anything in there—just a terrible smell—yet he was creeped out. Later that month, I got a Bannick delivery, and it changed what I knew about humanity. The apartment building was centrally located downtown and had security, nice hallways, and nice facilities—there was no way it was cheap to live there.
I had my Bannick pizza in hand, ready to battle with reality since I had been forewarned. There were a couple of drivers who refused to deliver to him. I rang and went in. The elevator was normal, and I walked down the clean, modern hallway until I got to the proper door, turned to knock and froze. The door—painted a commercial white—was smudged with raised bits of black stuff, as was the doorknob.
As I inspected it further, I could pick out handprints, fingerprints, and thumbnail scrapes. I could clearly see where the door had been touched regularly and how. It was fascinating but unsettling. I picked a place on the door that was less filthy than the surrounding area and knocked, resisting the urge to wipe my hand on my pants. I heard shuffling inside as someone got closer to the door.
I also heard an odd sound like Velcro. As the noise got closer, I glanced down and noticed that the carpet was discolored a little in the hallway starting at the door. As the doorknob began to turn, I saw the carpet flex and heard another squelch sound, and realized that the Velcro sound was him walking! The doorway cracked open. There was darkness beyond. He had to have had the windows completely covered.
I dimly saw a face and the outline of a head and said, "Uh, pizza”. I regretted it immediately. I had to involuntarily take a breath afterward. The smell was astonishing—like being hit in the face with a rotten corpse. I felt my stomach cramp as I struggled not to vomit. I would never have thought it possible. I've worked in feedlots, slaughterhouses, and pig farms. I'm as tough as guys get.
I've ridden rodeo bulls, birthed calves and horses, and done every kind of work that middle America could dream up, and yet, I was not prepared for Bannick. I struggled to remain in place. Begrudgingly, Bannick slid open his door. Time dilated for me. I was horrified, disgusted, fascinated, and gratified all at once. I wanted to run screaming, but I hadn’t even seen the guy yet!
The door opened wider, and I held my breath—both literally and metaphorically. As a wedge of light entered the condo, I got a glimpse of the interior wall. It was streaked with stuff. The light switch was caked with it, and the smell grew even worse. I already knew I wasn’t ever coming back, so I did the unthinkable. I gave the door a little tap. I wanted more of a look inside, but I didn't get it.
The sight of Bannick stopped me, and parts of my brain collapsed. This poor creature, this wretch, this filthy, stinky unkempt guy was covered in months’ worth of oily residue. His eyes were a milky white, his hair an oily, shiny tumble of black, he had warts everywhere, and his hands were covered in that black muck. With mounting horror, I tried desperately to make polite small talk as I watched his hands reach out toward me and the pizza.
I watched with numb fascination as he held a filthy encrusted wad of money out to me. I choked a little as I accepted it. The door closed, and it was done, but the image of Bannick's warty hand was frozen into my mind's eye. When I returned to the store and told my manager what I had seen and that I would never go there again, we banned him from receiving delivery. It was a health hazard, and none of our drivers would go there anymore.
Several years ago I was running pies for the Hut. We had a particularly nice house that I always seemed to get. It was a nice couple with three kids and a big house. They had money and always had large orders and tipped well. One day, I get routed to their address but I notice the order is very different than normal. It’s about double what they order and the name on the order is not the father’s name.
Interesting, so I take the order to their house. The house is literally bumping. Mom and dad’s car is nowhere in sight. I get their oldest daughter, roughly 15, to answer the door. Now mind you, I don’t care at all if the kids are having a good time, but she made an enemy of me that day. She proceeds to complain that I took forever in a condescending tone, make fun of my uniform, and stiff me on a $100+ order.
I didn’t say anything at the time, but I got my revenge. About two weeks later the house orders again. Normal order, normal name. And I magically get their order. When I arrive, her father is at the door and I can’t help myself. I ask him if they had a good time at the party. He’s clearly confused, so I remind him of the great party they had two weeks prior.
He sits and thinks for a minute. Then he hands me a freaking $50 tip and says, “Thank you very much, I’m sure we enjoyed the party a lot.” After he closes the door, all I hear is him yell “Brooooookk get your butt down here right now.” It was a jerk move sure, but nah, be nice to your driver—and tip them.
A co-worker and friend of mine got a delivery one night. Before he left, our manager pulled him into the office and gave him the most sinister set of instructions. He gave my friend a pair of latex gloves and instructed him to use them to put the money in an envelope. He was confused but didn't ask many questions. The manager told him that when he got to the house, there would be actual caution tape around the yard and a sign that said something like "Warning: infestation".
My coworker was somewhat of a germaphobe, to begin with, so at that point, he did not want to go up to the door, but he had to deliver this pizza. The woman who answered was grotesque. She was covered in red splotches and potentially bites of some kind. He quickly handed her the pizza, carefully took her money with the gloves on, stuffed it in the envelope, and sprinted back to his car.
When he got back to the store, he threw a fit. The manager felt so bad she put the house on the blacklist.
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