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The Craziest (But Not Abnormal) Delivery Driving Stories

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at CNU chapter.

I started working as a pizza delivery driver last summer in order to make some quick extra cash. Honestly, it’s one of my favorite jobs. Getting paid to sit in my car and listen to music is just perfect for me. Not to mention that it’s normally very fast paced. For my kind of anxiety disorder, that’s exactly what I need in a job. However, I’ve learned from learning the trade that there are quite a few things nobody warns you about. I’ve also been put in the craziest situations and found out that it was very normal for delivery drivers to experience them. So, here’s an article sharing the painful, awkward, and sometimes hilarious things that happen at my job.

1) I had a gun pulled on me

Okay. That was a very bold and eye grabbing sentence. And I wasn’t lying. I did get a gun pulled on me. BUT it wasn’t for a robbery.

One day I was delivering to a lady out in the apartments closest to the city limits. I knocked on the door, and after about thirty seconds and standing in silence I hear someone yell “WHO IS IT!?”. Me, with my naturally soft and difficult to project voice, say “Pizza delivery!” and I begin to hear several locks being unbolted. The door opens, and this woman is holding a small handgun, and it’s pointed straight at me. I freeze, not even comprehending the fact that this woman was POINTING A GUN AT MY FACE. She sees the panic sweep over me and goes “Oh, it’s you” and then puts the gun away. DID YOU NOT REMEMBER THAT YOU ORDERED A PIZZA LIKE WHAT?

This woman also did not have the decency to tip me. But on the plus side whenever I’m interviewed and someone asks if I’ve been placed in “workplace conflict” I can always woo them with the story of how I had a gun pulled on me.

2) I was gawked at by an old Trump supporter.

The reason I describe this man in the way I do is because he was the definition of what you would consider a “sterotypical Trump supporter” to look like. White, old, male, balding, southern af accent, and an air about him that made him seem rude. I knocked on this man’s door, noticing the huge TRUMP sign placed in his yard (which was located in a predominantly black community, lol). He answered and opened up the screen door for me so I could hand him his receipt to sign. He smiled at me, gave me a nice elevator stare and said, “Smile for me, maybe I’ll give you a better tip.”

I think my least favorite thing is when men say things to me like that. I hate it. And I can only do but so much without losing my tip (which I really, really needed). I take the receipt from him, give him his food, and turn to leave. When I do a quick glance back I notice him staring at my khalki clad butt and I’m about ready to get tf out of there. At least he tipped me well.

3) A man called and asked me on a date…twice.

Food is the way to any man’s heart. That phrase is not a lie in any way. It’s 100% true. Whenever I was fighting with my old boyfriends, I’d always give them food or some kind of treat and they’d instantly calm down. It’s magic.

This magic applies when people call the store to order pizzas, or walk in and I’m unconveniently standing closest to the register. Normally I avoid being at the front so I don’t have to take orders, but it happens on occassion. One day, a man called and asked for a large pizza with the works on it and a thing of cheese sticks. Once I completed his order, in the most uncomfortable voice possible, he goes “Oh, baby, thank you so much beautiful. I’m ’bout to come down there and take you out for steak right now, oh wow.” It felt more like I was on a sex call than taking an order. I thanked him, hung up, and hid in the back for the rest of the day.

Another time, I was walking out of the store to get my car topper off of my car and noticed an older gentlemen standing next to the doorway outside. I gave him a polite smile, grabbed my topper, and went back in to clock out. As I was walking out, my coworkers said something really funny and I was laughing as I was exited. I happened to make eye contact with the man (he was probably about mid fifties), and he goes,”What a beautiful smile. Ooo, girl. You got a boyfriend?” His timing could not have been worse (or better, in his case) because I had just broken up with my boyfriend not even two weeks ago. But I lied and said, “Actually I do, sorry” and hurried to my car. He watched me the entire time, even while I sat in the car and got myself together. I drove off and he never took his eyes off my vehicle. I never saw him again, though.

4) Someone set their dog on me for funsies.

I’ve never been afraid of dogs. Ever. In fact, I used to own a huge ass Rotweiler who I would take into the shower with me so no monsters would stab me while I was bathing (I was a messed up kid). So normally, when I deliver and the owner freaks out about the dog coming to the door, I reassure them that dogs don’t scare me. However, his dog scared the shit out of me.

I got out of my car, grabbed the pizzas, and a MONSTER SIZED PITBULL STARTS ATTACKING ME. He’s scratching, face butting me, and jumping on me every time I try to get up while aggressively snarling. He doesn’t bite, and I wasn’t injured, but I wasn’t horrified. Eventually, I got my footing and I tried to stand up as tall as I could so he’d leave me alone. He circled my feet to wait for a moment of weakness, and I searched for the house I was supposed to deliver this food to. When I knocked on the door, the owners come up, call him in, and say, “You did a good job boy”. They had sent their dog out to “greet” me for funsies. The grins on their faces pissed me the hell off, but I sucked it up so I could get a good tip. And sure enough, they didn’t tip me. Life isn’t fair.

5) The job itself.

Delivery driving is just a weird job within itself. It’s crazy. You never know if business will be slow or not, so everyday is unpredictable. You also come into contact with so many different types of people and personalities. You learn a lot just by stepping onto a persons doorstep. I’ve met people struggling in poverty with ten kids and a cat. I’ve met stoners who sell drugs to keep their sick parents from being on their own. I’ve met well to do elderly couples who build their own damn log cabins in the middle of Richmond. Overall, it’s a lot of life experience and a job I would recommend to anyone who is interested. Does it have its dangers? Yes, but at this point what doesn’t?

I'm like hey, what's up, hello. I write things that either make your face look like this:    Or like this: ​   There is no in between.