This evening I found myself unprepared for dinner when one of the boys came downstairs looking for food. How do the weekends go by so quickly? After weighing the relative merits of going shopping, or ordering in, I picked the easy way out. Only two places deliver to our house. We could either have lukewarm Chinese or hot pizza, so the latter was the obvious choice.
Dominos pretty much has us on whatever special VIP plan they’ve got. We are such frequent customers (remember the “unprepared for dinner” statement above?) that I think we probably keep that particular location in business. They usually send the same driver each time and we’ve gotten to the point where we have some inside jokes together.
Tonight’s delivery featured a heretofore unknown-to-us driver – a slight young lady with a brow piercing and a fair bit of awkwardness. After signing the ticket and helping her wrestle with our order (teenage boys eat a LOT), I offered her the usual farewell I give to all delivery drivers. Apparently, my flip “Be safe!” was not something she anticipated because she gave me a look usually reserved for Christians offering unwanted blessings. As if they had the power to bless anyone, but whatever.
The reason I tell delivery drivers to be safe is because I truly hope they will be. Our pizza driver has come through rain, snow, sleet, flood, and high winds to bring us pizza. Sure, they do that for anyone who calls, but my pizza place and I, we’ve bonded. Ok, I tip pretty well too, but people who drive for a living deserve hazard pay, and very few of them get it.
Maybe I caught her off guard, or maybe she resented my command to stay out of danger when she was very obviously getting into a soon-to-be hurtling death machine made of metal and combustible fuel. Perhaps she thought I was being condescending because of her age. At any rate, I’m not sorry I said it because I meant it, every word (all both of them). ‘Cause here’s how I see it: if they don’t get back safely, then the probability of me continuing to get hot pizza on demand goes down.
Seriously though, I don’t like it when people get hurt, particularly on my behalf. Oh, and I don’t tip as well for lukewarm food. Just sayin’.
Like I said, my pizza place and I have bonded.