The Superbowl

Sorry for the generic image, but until I get myself a digital camera these pictures that have been culled from the internet will have to do.

Everything went surprisingly well yesterday, much to my surprise. Charley didn't break down into tears because of the enormity of it all, he didn't call James in on his birthday, Leah and Charley didn't start cussing each other out over who was the laziest, and Abdul and I didn't threaten each other with violence b/c someone took the wrong run.

As in Superbowls past, James overscheduled a bit and we weren't quite as busy as we expected to be. It shouldn't come as a surprise, part of the reason the big pizza stores are so busy on this day is b/c they advertise like mad before and during the game...and of course my little store doesn't do TV advertising. But there was still something of a bump as compared to normal Sundays, that's for sure.

People were tipping well, for the most part, although I did get stiffed at one house. I should've expected it but for whatever reason my mind was elsewhere and I wasn't anticipating a no-tip as I drove to 2328 _____ St. If you know it's coming then you can deal, but when you pull up to the driveway and then realize who the asshole is that you're about to meet then sometimes you don't put your best face forward. I'd been to this house several times, usually in the early afternoon and usually to deliver to a few kids who order a sub or two and a dozen wings as an afternoon snack, I guess. Being teenagers, of course they never tip. But when I pulled up last night there were a few more cars in the yard and they had a relatively large order coming their way, so I thought maybe, just maybe, the kids' mother/father/guardian would be more generous.

This older black lady comes to the door, I smile, still thinking I might get tipped, and tell her the price (22 something). She takes the pizzas and hands me a twenty, then says hold on a second. She calls to her friend/child/miserly companion, who dumps something into her hands just beyond my scope, then she returns. "Here ya go," she says kindly, all smiles, and she holds out her hands which're cupped together. I extend mine in the same way, and she dumps a sweaty glob of change into hands.

I take a quick glance, see that it's about $2, and turn and walk away without any sort of parting phrase or gesture. I normally say to the tippers "Thank you, have a good night" and sometime I'll even extend the courtesy of the latter half of that phrase to no-tippers, just as a reflex, but when someone really pisses me off I say nothing and just walk away, doing my best to scowl. I've been tempted in the past to say "Thanks a lot" but I could never quite bring myself to be that rude to a customer.

Well, this behavior just stunned this old woman, and she calls out to my back: "aincha gowna count it?!" I said nothing and walked to my car, she mumbled something about "dat boy" and went back into her house. Fuck her.

Old bitch at 2328, you now join Eric Bana on my shit list.