An Ode to the Bad-Weather Delivery Driver
Thanks to Mother Nature and her complete inability to make up her mind about which freakin' season it is, Dallas is experiencing some really disgusting winter weather this week. It was below 20 degrees. The highways iced over, causing some people to get stuck on I-45 for hours. Schools closed. Everyone was miserable.
Courtesy Domino's/td> We salute you, but don't salute back. You might drop the goods.
Miserable people do two things when they're stuck indoors because of the weather: bitch about it on Facebook and order delivery food. No one in their right mind would even contemplate schlepping groceries back from the store or going out to a restaurant in something called thundersleet. And nothing sounds better than an entire large pizza all to yourself when you're iced in and binge-watching Netflix.
But every time I pick up the phone to call for pizza or the Thai joint nearby, I feel guilty about asking someone to deliver me food in treacherous weather. Sure, it's their job, but I bet your job would get a lot more complicated if someone froze over the floor in your cubicle and you were expected to file papers or be an accountant on ice.
A lot of restaurants close when the weather gets icky, but some hardass owners keep their doors open to cater to all of us terrified winter drivers. You don't see Domino's shutting down every time frozen shit falls out of the sky. Those dudes are like the postal service of the food world, bringing you hot, steamy pizza in rain, sleet, snow or shine.
The roads out there can be dangerous, so the entire time I'm waiting for my delicious hot cheesy pizza, I'm feeling guilty about making the delivery guy potentially risk his life to bring it to my house. Not guilty enough to not order the pizza, mind you, but still.
Which brings me to the tip. You already know that your delivery driver doesn't see one dime of that $2.99 delivery fee you're paying, so you better not be too cheap to give the guy a few bucks extra for bringing you sustenance when the world is too difficult for your pansy ass to navigate. Even if means scaling back your original toppings selections. You didn't need that fifth meat anyway.
But how much tip is enough? Once the pizza guy gets to your door, shivering and covered in icicles, how much are you supposed to tip him for his discomfort? Does five bucks and an awkward high-five adequately cover three spin-outs on the highway? What if he smashes his face on the sidewalk while walking up to my door? Ten dollars would probably be better.
Maybe I'll stock up on airplane bottles of Jameson so that the next guy who inevitably brings me a meal in this awful winter nightmare can calm his nerves and warm his soul once he's (SAFELY) arrived home after work.
Anyway, thanks for keeping us alive for the past few days, Dallas area food delivery guys. Thanks for risking your lives so that we may consume delicious greasy food in the most American way possible -- sitting on our asses while complaining about how cold it is. Your service to this fine city will never be forgotten.