My name is Geremy, I'm twenty years old and I'm "the pizza delivery dude." I can't tell you how many times over the duration of my job I've spoken the phrase, "I'm sorry man, I just deliver."
I just got back from a delivery that apparently was a prank pulled by the friends of the girl who's house I was delivering to. It may have seemed hilarious to them, but standing at a stranger's door having five people yell, "I didn't order 5 pizzas !" at me for about ten minutes is not what I imagine when I want to laugh. As the girl's father finally gave in bitterly and payed me I said, "I'm sorry man, I just deliver." I didn't even get a tip, like it was my fault.
I am in my second year of college and barely scraping by. I have rent to pay, along with school supplies and books, stuff for my apartment, phone bills, and not to mention food. A delivery boy is not high on my list of achievements, but it's one of my two jobs that gets me through each day. All I'm trying to do is earn a little money, just like everyone else, but I get shit for things that I can't control... "I ordered extra cheese", "I wanted cinnamon rolls", "I thought I got two pizzas with this coupon", "Why can't I use my credit card?..." and so on. Sorry, but are those things my fault? Not particularly.
Sarah Adams's principles are amazingly refreshing in a world of complaining, arrogant people. Yes, I may cut you off on the road, or I may not have the best or most life-altering job, but like she says, I also didn't contribute to the inflated stock and loss of jobs. I am just like you, so "Be cool to the pizza delivery dude." After all, I'm sorry man, but I just deliver.
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