SECRET SANTA

I sat in the small office waiting for the shift manager to come in and cash me out for the night. One of the other drivers, Pedro a twenty something long-hair of Puerto Rican descent, stuck his head in the door. Pedro was a guy who had serious "issues" with God. He was mad at Him for the "4 years of wasted time, playing guitar in my church worship team and trying to be a good husband and father. The whole time, my wife was screwing around on me and what do I get an S- F...ing T- D and now I find out my daughter isn't even mine. God really sucks, you know. I could have been advancing my musical career in a real rock band and getting wasted, all the time instead of wasting all my time on God. Know what I mean, Dude?" Pedro and Jack, another driver who liked to be called Mike, lived together. Mike had taken Pedro in when it all hit the fan with his wife. This night, however, Pedro seemed excited, childlike and focused on something else.
"Dude, did you get your Secret Santa name yet?"
"Sorry Pete, don't know anything about Santa," I said, "and that goes for the Easter Bunny too."
"No, Dude, come on this is cool! We each pick a name out of a hat and then we have to buy that person a present for Christmas."
"As long as it's not Buddy's hat. I won't take anything out of there", I deadpanned.
Lizzie, the 19 year old shift manager came into the office and flopped into her chair. She took my money and receipts and asked what we were talking about?
"Dude, Lizzie, we were just talking about the Secret Santa," Pedro said excitedly.
"Oh Pedro, I know what Mike is getting you," she threw in coyly.
"Wait a second, you and Mike are roommates and you're also each others Secret Santas? How did that happen," I inquired?
"We didn't cheat, Dude. Just the luck of the draw, honest. I wouldn't lie about Santa, for real. Anyway, I'll just buy Mike a big ol' bag of dope."
Lizzie threw back her head and laughed. "That's so, so funny! That's what Mike said he's getting you. A big bag of dope!" They both continued to laugh at the irony. Visions of that Christmas morning and their version of re-gifting flashed through my mind. I grabbed my tip money and left.

IT JUST AGGRATATES ME

"You know what I mean," Buddy muttered as he returned from some deliveries? "Here it is what, almost 8:00. I been on 4 deliveries and didn't get no tip yet. That's a hunert dollars in pizza and no dang tip."
"It will get better. Hang in there. You know how it goes in streaks," I said.
"Nope. Not till I stop pulling them orders in that section of town."
I didn't ask, I knew what was coming.
"The Black persuasion."
"How are they persuaded to be Black", I queried?
He continued, ignoring me, "Their Momma and Daddies didn't teach them no manners about tippin. Period! It just aggratates me and they don't know how to speak no English, either."

SHEHEREZAD WENT MISSING

As previously mentioned, there is a high turnover rate in the pizza transportation biz. No sooner do you feel like you are getting to know someone then they are gone like the winds(Buddy, the post stroke Grandpa Walton lookalike and surviving member of the Rubeonics Brothers, says our pizza gives him the winds). Such is the case with Sheherezad(sic-her mom's, not mine). She had shadowed me on Thursday(a newbie rides with an experienced driver to learn the real world ropes) and she began delivering solo on a Friday night, typically our busiest. She had a new little Asian whatyucallit "pickemup truck", as Buddy called them, equipped with a deluxe GPS. She had taken the pizza job to help pay for it.

Typically, when an order is printed out for delivery, a driver, no matter how experienced, will usually spend a moment in front of the giant wall map just to verify where he/she is going. After all, it is our gas money and on a Friday or Saturday night, if you're not careful, you could end up in a place that you just don't want to be. Buddy, has been known to plant himself, in a trance-like state, inches from the mural for 5 solid minutes at a time. This always annoyed the young drivers until I told them one time, "He's downloading". Now, they just kind of nod knowingly and work around him.

Sheherezad, like many of the technodependents, couldn't be bothered with the map. After all, she had GPS. She grabbed her first 3 delivery orders and confidently headed for the door. As far as we know, that was the last she was ever seen. There were reports from the kids taking the phone orders that she would call in periodically, in degenerating stages of hysteria. It started with, "Are there any other drivers in there that could please give me a little help?" To one and one half hours later, "I can't find any of these F....ing addresses. This isn't worth it. I have gone through a 1/2 pack of cigarettes and a half tank of gas and I STILL DON'T KNOW WHERE I AM! I F....ING QUIT! DO YOU HEAR ME? I F...ING QUIT!" No one ever did hear from her or the pizzas, for that matter, again.
The real Sheherazade went for 1000 Arabian nights. This namesake couldn't even make it for 1 in Sandia.