The Italian Job

May 10, 2009 at 9:49 PM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | Leave a comment
  About 1130 last night at Domino’s. Mike takes a call.  Another store, the Creve Couer store, was just robbed at gunpoint.  Wow.  Okay.  What do we do?  He was getting ready to leave on a run.  For starters, we decided after he walked out, I would lock the door. 
  Two minutes after he left, Tom the supervisor calls.  He says, "Go ahead and lock your doors."
  I started to explain that we already had, since we heard–
  "How did you hear?"
  I told him.  "Who called?"
  "I don’t know.  Mike took the call.  I assumed it was someone at Creve Couer."
  "Have Mike call me when he gets back."
  Because the odd thing was, he couldn’t get anyone to answer the phone at the store.  How did he hear about it?  I never got an answer to that.  Why did they call us first?  Who called?  What’s going on?
  Mike called him back, but still we had no answers.  Although it made Mike suspicious about one thing:  The person working at Creve Couer, and the person working at Long Road, who supposedly called us.  I forget their names, but they are boyfriend and girlfriend.
  Perhaps we need some back story.

  Let’s call them Bonnie and Clyde.  Clyde is the brother in law of John, one of our drivers.  Also a brother in law is Johnny, and he works at Domino’s as well.  Johnny is a younger brother, and Clyde is the older brother.  These guys are all Mexican, which doesn’t matter much except for the fact that they were all living in extended-family lifestyle at John’s house.  That, and the fact that Clyde has "old country" beliefs about machismo and respect.
  John had just recently kicked Clyde out of his house.  Power structure disagreement, plus Clyde wasn’t contributing to the household financially.  Yet he thought the others should trea him with "respect."
  Meanwhile, recently Clyde had purchased a car from Mike.  John had only set up the connection, trying to help them both out:  Mike is trying to get a used car business going, and Clyde needed a car.
  Clyde and his girlfriend both work, Clyde lived with John not paying very much, and who the hell knows where his GF lived.  Between them they couldn’t make the car payment all the time, and it was the only bill they had.  Clyde has a pretty big pot habit.  Something that turns out to be about a grand a month.
  That’s a big problem, for a couple of reasons.  First of all, it’s a lot of money.  Secondly, smoking that much pot makes you stupider and lazier than you normally would be, and being a pot smoker gives you a propensity for stupid and lazy in the first place.
  Good for you if you are for the legalization of pot.  Chances are I’ve smoked way more of it than you have, and I know what the fuck I’m talking about.  Please be offended.
  In addition to all of these other wonderful qualities, he is also mechanically inept.  The fuel pump went out on the vehicle.  He tried to change it himself and broke alot of stuff in the process.  He cut lines to take it out.  What a stupid fucking retard.  John said that Clyde’s father is a mechanic, and a good one.  Why he didn’t go to him is probably another story that is a shining example of his brilliance and forethought.
  Mike told them he could get the part cheaper than what they were going to pay–they wanted him to buy the part and then they would "pay him back."  There’s a reason I put that in quotes.
  Mike’s dad found out that they weren’t carrying insurance on the vehicle, either.  They have to, because Mike and his dad are financing it.   Mike said you have until [this week] to get me a payment and get insurance on it.  They said okay.  Mike sees a repo in their future.

  And now there’s the robbery, involving Bonnie (who got robbed) and Clyde (who seemed to have alot of inside knowledge).  Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice.
  Tom didn’t know about the money issue between Mike and Clyde, and Mike didn’t tell him.  But Mike did ask him, "Are you thinking what I’m thinking?"
  Tom said, "What are you thinking?"
  "It smells suspiciously like an inside job."
  "I have to go."
  Tom called me later to look at the caller ID log, to see from which number we had received the call about the robbery.  I looked it up, and gave it to him.  We shall see what happens.  It’s an on-going investigation.

  Meanwhile, Mike goes on another run.  It’s raining, which reminded me of how glad I am that I’m not delivering.  He calls me, then comes back and fills me in on the whole story.
  It took a while for the jackoff to order.  The caller ID log, in fact, shows about 5 calls from him over an hour.  We just thought he had a bad phone and it kept disconnecting on him.  Now we’re not sure.  He was drunk, which is standard in these cases.  Mike worked with him on the phone over the course of several phone calls to get his information and get his order, and even tried to give him a deal, really just to make it easier on us and get it over with.
  While Mike is en route, the professional ass calls back.  He wants to complain.  He thinks the guy who took his order was rude to him, and he is going to report him "to corporate." 
  "What did he do?" I ask, regretting it.
  He had nothing specific, just that he didn’t like the guys attitude.  Mike has owned a nightclub, been a bouncer, stuff like that.  He knows how to deal with drunks.  He was nice to him, trying to help him out.  Of course, there’s no pleasing some people, especially if they are the stupid-angry-drunk type.
  Mike gets to the house, and as he’s pulling up, he sees a guy standing outside in the rain.  Keep in mind that this is about midnight.  As Mike pulls up, the idiot runs out at Mike’s car, slapping the windshield.
  "Get out of the car, motherfucker!"
  Mike looks at him–he’s a scrawny, pathetic looking little bitch.  Mike is built like me, but shorter.  Like I said, he had been a bouncer.  "What’s the problem, dude?"
  "Get the fuck out of the car!"
  Mike said, "You don’t really want me to get out of the car."
  The punk threw a swing at the door glass.  "Alright."  Mike got out.
  The little bitch took off running back to the house.  He yelled back, "I’m going to call corporate!"  About what, exactly?  That’s my question.
  Mike yelled back, "Make sure you tell them my name is Mike, you little pussy!"
  Needless to say, he didn’t buy the pizza.
  But things like that make me wish I was driving again.

 As an addendum to the robbery–maybe it did really happen they way the
girl said.  Two black guys, wearing hoods and packing heat, came in. 
Demanded money.  They got an undisclosed sum and left, and no one was
hurt.  If that’s they truth, then I feel bad for the girl.  I’ve been
robbed, I’ve had a gun pointed at me.  Let me tell you, it’s shitty.
  Plus, she has a pathetic loser boyfriend.

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