(originally posted over at my blog - thought you guys might like it)
Back in the early 90’s, when our daughter was small and we were dirt poor, my husband Dave worked a night job as a Sustenance Transportation Engineer, also known as a Domino’s Pizza Delivery Boy. Not the most glamorous job in the world, but between the hourly wage and tips it helped us to get by. After his shift he usually came home late at night exhausted, greasy, and smelling of stale pizza. One night, though, he came home with something else: a good story.
Several hours earlier Dave was booking around his route in our Toyota pickup when he delivered two pizzas to a house he hadn’t visited before. A man in his late twenties answered the door with a beer in his hand. As he was paying, the man peered outside and said, “Hey, you have a truck. I’ll give you twenty bucks if you help me out. I’ve got to get rid of my fridge tonight. It was full of fish and it quit on me. I can’t take the smell anymore.” Sympathetic, Dave said, “Dude, I’d like to help you, but I can’t. I’m on the clock.”
“Come on, I’ll give you thirty bucks and my buddies and I will load it up.”
Dave was tempted. “Look, I have runs waiting for me back at the shop. I get off at midnight – I’ll come back then.”
“No, man, I’ve got to get rid of it now. I’ll give you fifty bucks and a six-pack of beer if you take it right now.”
Now this was too good to resist. “You got yourself a deal.”
Dave stood by while the man and his friends scooted the refrigerator out to the truck. As they were loading it in the back, the door popped open and stinky fish guts splashed over the guys’ pants. Whew! The smell was, to say the least, BAD.
Dave collected his money and his beer, jumped in the truck, and took off, wondering what to do with the disgusting appliance. Then it hit him. He stopped by the side of the road, pulled the Domino’s Pizza sign off the truck’s roof and peeled the company shirt off. He then proceeded to enter an alley behind the house of a frequent pizza customer whose house was at the edge of the delivery area, and who never tipped the drivers. Unwisely, the occupants of that house had not put a fence around their back yard.
As quietly as possible, Dave jumped out of the truck. The refrigerator was positioned in the truck bed in such a way that Dave was able, with a little elbow grease, to push it off into the customer’s back yard. The door popped open again, letting out the foul aroma.
Dave leaped into the truck and zoomed away, quite pleased with himself for this inventive solution to his problem.
He feels no guilt even today.
The moral to this story is: always tip your friendly neighborhood Sustenance Transportation Engineer.
Submitted November 17, 2014 at 05:00AM by catzenjamba http://ift.tt/1A4Fkum TalesFromThePizzaGuy
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