December 2005

Fucktards and Douchebags or How to Spot a Shitty Tipper

A few weeks ago City Pages ran a a story called "How To Spot A $1 Tipper", a sort of "Greatest Hits" culled from this blog.

Sometime during the editing process, the article was dubbed "How To Spot A $1 Tipper" by my editor. I thought it was a little off the mark in the fact that only one of the stories was about a $1 tip. My suggestion for a title, "Fucktards and Douchebags or How to Spot a Shitty Tipper" was rejected due to CP's policy of not printing obscenities in the headline. I couldn't come up with anything better, so I let the original title stand.
However, this got me to thinking about all the telltale signs of shitty tippers.
Often, when a Pizzalover comes to the door, I'll notice something that gives me that "shitty tipper" feeling, that sense of dread, that sense of "Oh shit, one of these guys...".

Here's an incomplete list of signs that indicate that the Pizzalover probably won't be sharing the green with the Pizzaman:

-The Pizzalover is wearing a School Sweatshirt:
I get that sinking feeling every time I see someone coming to the door sporting the grey, baggy proof that they went to some fancy college or they've sent their kids to some private high school. I guess since tuition is going up, the Pizzaman is the one who has to suffer.

-The Pizzalover is wearing a sports jersey:
Sports fans suck. They never have their shit together and they often leave me waiting on the doorstep while they catch that one last play before answering the door. Last week, some fat-ass in a Daunte Culpepper jersey came to the door and said "Sorry it took me so long, the Vikings are on".
"Dude, they're going to lose anyway" I told him.
(I was right)

-Pizzalovers who say "Cheers":
These cheapskates are often English or Australian or punkers who want to seem more English or Australian. They're really friendly, but somehow don't understand that I make my living on those tips.

-Art Students
These fuckers are the worst. They treat you like shit, hardly tip at all and are often too baked to understand what I'm saying. What puzzles me is that they're usually putting the pizza on Daddy's credit card anyway, so why not give me a decent tip?

-Pizzalovers who wear Indie Rock shirts:
If a customer comes to the door displaying their love for some local rock band, I can almost guarantee that they're not going to treat me right. They're either too cool to tip or they're trying to show that they're "poor"/"down and out". There's nothing worse than middle class/rich kids slumming.
They're usually paying with Daddy's credit card too.

-Pizzalovers who say "Thanks, I appreciate it"
This is the most ironic thing I hear on the Streets of Pizza. A guaranteed shitty tip. I often have the urge to yell "No you don't! If you really meant that, you'd give me a better tip, asshole!" Sometimes, I wish I had postcards to hand them with the Paul Wellstone quote "Never separate the life you live from the words you speak".
But I doubt if these clowns would even know who Paul Wellstone is.

Posted by The Pizza Man at December 20, 2005 12:13 PM

5 Ways My Pizzacar Is Like Sid Hartman

1 -Seems tired
2 -Is full of shit
3 -Makes undistinguishable noises
4 -Doesn't know jack about football
5 -Somehow, against all reason and logic, keeps going

Posted by The Pizza Man at December 17, 2005 11:24 PM

To The Owner Of A Late-Model Ford Taurus Who Unknowingly Helped Me Jump-Start My Car - I Thank You

My Pizzacar is having some troubles.

There seems to be an electrical glitch somewhere in my car and if I let it sit too long, it won't start. So when I must park it for an extended period, I have to remove the battery and lug it inside.(my neighbors and my Boss at my other job have been giving me weird looks when I walk through the door carrying my car battery - they just shake their heads, for they're used to the strange ways of The Pizzaman)

Although this has helped my car's starting abilities, it hasn't quite solved the problem. My car still, sometimes, won't start.
Like the other day, when I came out of the grocery store, I turned the key and... nothing.
So, I called a couple friends, but they weren't answering.

I looked at the car next to mine.

Then, a great idea struck me.

It was a late-model Taurus and it was unlocked.
I opened the driver's side door and popped the hood.
As quickly as could, I hooked up the jumper cables.
I turned the key.
Vvvrrooom!
My battered Pizzacar fired right up.

I unhooked the cables, looked around to see if I was spotted and drove off.

I never imagined that I'd be in my 30's and still have to pull shit like this.

Posted by The Pizza Man at December 5, 2005 2:33 PM

He's no Mathlete!

Here's an exchange I had with one of my customers recently:

Pizzaman: "That'll be 19.25"
Pizzalover: "Got change for a fifty dollar bill?"
Pizzaman: "No"
Pizzalover: "How about a hundred?"
Pizzaman: "You weren't a math major were you?"
Pizzalover: "No, I was an Art major"
Pizzaman: "Really?"

Posted by The Pizza Man at December 1, 2005 12:00 AM

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