122
MLCM
FALL/WINTER2016
as a professional snowboarder/pizza driver. He
wasn’t actually working, so wore only the logoed
shirt with jeans instead of khakis and had no
hot pouch for the pizza. Instead of being happy
for the freemarketing, corporate came down on
him for not wearing the full uniform.
Rube Goldberg, a legend for both snowboarding
and pizza delivery, notes that he lost respect
when in uniform, and his tips increased
significantly when he wasn’t dressed like a
billboard for the company. On one occasion,
uniformed and with a company decal on the
roof of his truck, some punks at staff housing
threw his truck into neutral and rolled it down
the hill as far as they could before he got back
from the delivery. It’s a lot more fun to prank
a tool of a large corporation than a fellow skid
trying to fund his shred addiction.
It’s unlikely that corporate overlords will relent.
Their analysts have done research, gathered
data and studied trends, and the results show
that nerds are better for business than dirtbags.
Yet for all of their analysis, they fail to recognize
that the statistical phenomenon ‘regression
towards themean’ is at work, and everything
evens out over time. Their efforts are in vain,
because in the world of late-night Whistler pizza,
dirtbags are themean. And over a long enough
timeframe, themean always reasserts itself—I
leavemy shirt un-tucked and start my shift.
CATERING TO THE CUSTOMER
While the drivers inWhistler are their own
breed, the customers are also very different
from their big city counterparts. Up here, it’s
locals living the hedonist lifestyle, and carefree
tourists (withmoney to burn) who want to tap
into those good times for as long as they can.
Local delivery hunkAdam Cseff was recently
greeted by a naked 60-year-old lady, while her
friends laughed hysterically in the background.
Sexualizing the pizza boy is not an uncommon
occurrence, he assures me. It’s hard to say
exactly what it is that attracts people to the
pizza guy, it could be that bringing someone
food activates pheromones, or the fact that they
can easily be summoned directly to your door.
Whatever the cause, inWhistler, pizza guys
know the deal—endure the sexual objectification
for the large tip that comes with it.
I would be remiss in not mentioning some of
the hardships of the job. Habitual non-tippers
not only affect your pay, but also take a mental
toll. Knowing that you are burning your own
gas and spending your time bringing a pizza
to someone who refuses to show appreciation
can sour even the most jovial of deliverers.
One driver, who will remain anonymous, took
matters into his own hands by starting a
practice he referred to as “Middle-manning.” On
orders for notorious and routine low-tippers,
he would cut an inch strip from the middle of
the pizza, eat the strip, and then push the two
halves together, making the theft unnoticeable.
The middleman always gets his cut.
Another headache is the pizza/taxi scam, a ploy
used by customers who think they can beat the
system. They will order a pizza to their home,
show up at the store while the pizza is being
cooked, and ask the driver to take them home
with the pizza, potentially getting the ride and
the pizza for less than the price of a cab. If you
are thinking of pulling this off, you better be
really damn friendly and tip really damn well,
because there is a reason the driver chose to
deliver pizza and not people—pizza smells
better than you, talks less than you, and never
asks to stop for smokes.
HIGH ON PIE
There have always been rumours about guys
selling drugs on the job but it seems to be just
that, amyth. My research indicates that a good
driver makes enoughmoney slanging pies,
there’s no need to risk it all. Pizza is like its own
drug anyways—addictive, devastating to your
health, and when consumed correctly, able to
make you reach higher levels of consciousness.
But while selling is rare,
offers to receive are often
not. Onmy first day of
driving, I delivered to some
locals who graciously invited
me in for a bong toke. At
first I refused, but I could
see the disappointment in their eyes. In an
attempt to appease the clients and represent the
company as well as I could, I accepted at their
second insistence. As I cleared the smoke I heard
one of them say: “this guy has the best job in
the world.”
But then I got lost onmy next delivery and had
to call the customer twice for directions. When I
finally found her she looked incredibly grumpy
and I couldn’t stop giggling about it, which
didn’t help the situation. Apparently she thought
this reason enough not to tipme. I noted her
name and address so that next time I’d be sure
to get my cut.
Onmy firstdayof driving, I delivered to
some localswhograciously invitedme
in for abong toke. At first I refused, but I
couldsee thedisappointment in their eyes.
