I used to deliver for one of the major pizza chains and know delivery drivers from most businesses in and outside my delivery area. I have been a delivery driver for a few different pizza joints. I had a habit of stopping at a convenience store not far from my home store to top off my water jug two or three times a shift, more when it got hot outside.

One day, I stopped off at the store to get my last water refill for the night when I noticed a driver from a different pizza place that I used to deliver for years before wandering the store with four bottles of wine. They were bragging to someone on the phone that they were going to be getting a big tip from a customer for getting them some wine. The driver was getting the stink-eye from customers and employees alike as they lined up and paid for the wine.

As soon as I got into my car, I called the other pizza place and spoke to the manager, letting her know that one of her drivers was buying wine on the clock and taking it to a customer. I described the driver and their car and what the driver was saying to the manager. I didn’t let her know that I was a delivery driver, but I said that I knew the rules that employees at the pizza joint had to follow and that I didn’t want the store to get penalized for the actions of a reckless employee.

I later found out via one of my fellow drivers that his wife was fired for buying wine on the clock for a customer, and she knew that it was a driver from our store who reported her and got her fired.

I have been TABC [Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission] certified since 1989 and know that what the driver was doing is highly illegal. Had there been a TABC agent in the convenience store, the driver would have been arrested, and that store would have been penalized as well as the driver. I hated reporting the driver for doing what they did, but I won’t let bad drivers make it harder for those who are trying to do honest work and not cheat or game the system for bigger and better tips. Anyone who works as a delivery driver (including for popular delivery apps) knows that buying alcohol or tobacco for customers while on the clock is an immediate termination; they can only pick up and deliver alcohol that a customer has paid for with their order.

I am sorry that the driver lost her job, and I hope that she learns that lesson; had there been a TABC agent in that store, things could have been far worse than her getting fired.

I work at a pizza restaurant, and I have just picked up the phone.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Restaurant]. Is this a pick-up or delivery?”

Customer: “It’s a pick-up.”

Me: “Okay. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “Do you have a six-piece?”

Me: “Yes, our smalls are six pieces. Did you want a deep dish or round?”

Customer: “Deep dish. And how many pieces is that, three?”

Me: “No, sir, it’s a six-piece. What would you like on it?”

Customer: “Pepperoni, and how many pieces is that?”

Me: *Exasperated* “Six.”

Customer: “Okay.”

I think that is the end of it, but then I am the one who helps him when he comes to pick up his order.

Customer: “I had a deep dish. I think it was an eight-piece.”

Me: *Fully dead inside* “No, sir, as I said on the phone, the small is a six-piece.”

I am delivering pizzas to a farmhouse. The door opens ever so slightly, and the customer is trying to get the (paid-for) pizzas without opening the door too much. Suddenly, there’s the sound of something smashing in the background, distracting the customer, who releases the door an inch or two.

This is all the space required for ten — yes, TEN — golden retriever puppies to make their escape and swarm all over me, eager to meet their new friend.

Me: *Squealing in delight* “Oh… my… GodThey’reAllSoFrickinCuteOhMyGoooood!”

Customer: “Sorry! I took in a foster dog, and she was way more pregnant than we realized. I’m glad you’re not scared of dogs.”

Me: *Still squealing* “Are you kidding? They’re all adorable!“

Customer: “Do you… do you wanna play with them?”

I quickly shoot my boss a message saying I’m going to be ten minutes longer than expected to be back.

Boss: *Texting* “Traffic?”

I send him back a picture of myself with the puppies.

Boss: *Texting* “Take twenty.”

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I work for a local mom-and-pop pizza place, all takeout or delivery. The owner is great, and maybe the pay isn’t the best, but I’ve literally left his place for a better job like four times, and every time I’ve needed employment, he’s welcomed me back with open arms.

I’m taking a delivery to one of the richer neighborhoods, where many homes have all the neighbor kids playing in their driveways. I drive up to one of these houses, park my car, and see the silhouettes of kids playing through the front door. I walk up to the door with three pizza boxes and a bag of fries and knock on the door, expecting one of the kids to open the door and snatch the order out of my hands (and for me to leave with no tip, because the order was paid by card but said they’d tip in cash).

Instead, a little girl, maybe four or five, opens the door and announces TRIUMPHANTLY to her older brother:

Little Girl: “See?! I told you pizza people could be pizza PEOPLE and not just pizza GUYS!“

And then her father rushed over to the door to accept the pizza and give me a nice tip, telling me he hoped his kids didn’t bother me.

Yeah, girl, maybe set your sights higher than pizza delivery girl, but if you wanna do that, that’s fine! You can be a pizza delivery GIRL, too, and you tell your brother that!

Back when I used to deliver pizzas, I drove out an order that came to total of $14.97. The lady pays cash, $15 even. I take it, give her the pizza and cheese sticks.

Me: “Have a good evening!”

With that I turn to return to my car. Halfway there, I hear her yell from behind:

Customer: “Hey!”

As soon as I turn to face her, she continues in a somewhat upset tone:

Customer: “Where I was raised, we were taught to say ‘thank you’ when given a tip!”

I stare at her a moment, a bit speechless at both the tone and her belief that three cents is a tip, before turning back toward my car again without saying anything. She starts going into a rant about young people, lack of manners, no respect, blah-blah-blah to my back as I open the door, put the delivery bag inside, and reach for my center console.

I get what I am after and return to her. She pauses in her rant as I walk back, and I hold out my closed hand to her, palm down. She looks confused, but puts out her hand and I drop three pennies into it before looking her dead in the eyes.

Me: “Obviously, you need this more than I do.”

I turn and leave as she stares, speechless in shock. As soon as I was out of sight of that house, I called manager to let him know he was probably going to get a call. He did.

Totally worth it.