Anarchy Is Heroin For The Masses

November 23, 2009 at 3:57 PM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | Leave a comment
   Sadly, Imo’s Pizza has turned out to be everything I figured it would be.  There’s nothing like having your low expectations met.
The place is anarchy, and I mean it.  I worked with the owner/boss/whatever one time, the first time I worked.  After that I haven’t seen him.  But we’ve all heard from him.  If the signs you post in the store are REALLY REALLY big and you use a thick permanent marker, is it still passive-aggressive?
Yes.  Yes, it is.
The kitchen staff–there are so many of them that I’m surprised I know all of their names, but I do, because I’m like that.  I’m a people person.  There’s Melissa, of course, who is one of the managers.  Skinny but really cute.  Then there’s…uhm…Mario, and Ed, and the dude with the long hair, the dude with the short hair, the little black dude, the cute little black chick, and some other guy.
They all seem to be good kids, but they are just kids, even Melissa.  Who the hell is in charge?
I called to say I was going to be late Friday, and talked to the Big L there.  Even he was trying to convince me that they didn’t need me that night.  I succumbed, and stayed home.  I went in Saturday, and it was looking the same way.  But the boss–who was not there–said I could work every Friday and Saturday.  he *said* it.  The poker faces from the other drivers told me to leave.  I need an answer.  I went to Melissa.  I said, “Listen, I need a ruling from someone who is not a driver.  Are we busy enough?  Should I star or should I go?”
Her response?  “I really don’t care.  Whatever the other drivers think is okay.  If you want to go, you can go.”
That did it for me.  “Okay.  I’m here, I’m staying.”  What fun is anarchy if you can’t participate?

The DMZ is the cut table.  Inside people will cut pizzas, and so will drivers.  I hang out there a lot because I don’t like to just sit around.  This is news to me–I thought I was lazy.  But when I see three 17-year-olds trying to handle the ovens when it is a one-person job, I have to step in.
The other drivers do as well, usually when it is in their own self-interest, and they are unapologetic.  Most of these clowns I can’t keep straight.  Dan and Andy look like the chubby stoners from those movies like “Knocked Up” and whatever the other ones are.  TC is the one black dude that drives.  Of course there is the Big L, working more now since he got let go from his sales job.  There is Jim, whom I know as Jay, who worked with us at Scooter’s a while back.  He’s known the Big L since high school, and the early days of Domino’s.  He’s…unique.
And then there is Brian.  Not me, the other one.  He does remind me of my friend the Dude a little bit.  But the Dude does have some character and ethics.  He’s like the Dude’s evil and lazy twin brother.
This guy, along with several of the other drivers, will take whatever runs they want.  As long as they take the first one on the list, then anything goes.  Even if there are four drivers waiting and those four runs are the only ones.  If they remotely go together, he’s taking them.  And–if there is just one run, he will wait for something that hasn’t been ordered yet, in the hopes of getting a double.
The other night he was up first, and the run obviously went by itself.  He told me, so I checked out the next two.  They were ready, so I left.  By the time I got back, he is just leaving, having waited for something else to go with his first run.  Customer service is more of an abstract idea here.
I do understand why they do it–once last night I took a single run just to leave the store.  I got a big fat stiff on it.  Yeah, I’m not making much money here.
Jay was taking a run, and Brian was giving him what seemed to me ludicrous and irrelevant directions.  Jay nodded and said, “Okay, got it.”
I said, “Jay, do I need to remind you of what YOU told ME last week when Brian gave me instructions?”
I was going to an apartment, and I found the place in the apartment guide, but Brian felt compelled to extrapolate  at length, because I’m new at this and have never delivered before, especially in this area where I was the manager of a Domino’s for several years.  Brian gave me some odd, whacked out “instructions,” and Jay said to me, “You DO realize he’s on heroin, right?”
This time it was my turn, and I said the same thing to Jay.  “You DO realize he’s on heroin, right?”
He shook his head and smiled sadly.  “Yeah, I know.”
Yes, it is true.  Yes, he is on heroin.  I haven’t actually seen him do it, but everyone else knows way too many details, and I’ve talked with him after he has taken a delivery and been gone for an hour and a half.  The boy is fried.  He works a lot of dayshifts, and then he wants to stay all night and take as many runs as he can.  Luckily, it’s not that many.  If he takes three or four, he is out of the game for quite a while.
Like all the other drivers, he resents having another driver there taking money out of his pocket and the needle out of his ankle.  He lives with his parents–but to be fair he is only in his mid 30s–and so he only needs money for gas and heroin.  Silly me, I’m just trying to pay my fucking bills.
The bottom line is, I’m not able to work enough there to make the money I need.  I did talk to a friend of Al’s about getting on at another Imo’s–closer to home and better money.  We’ll see if it pans out.  I have two options I’m looking at:
a) getting a completely different part time job and then I will drop Imo’s like a bad transmission; or
2) getting another job and keeping Imo’s.
But I have to do something.  I have a nut I need to make, and I’m not making it.  If I don’t make that nut, this pontoon boat of fun is going to sink, and fast.

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