Saturday, May 19, 2007

A Woman Delivered My Pizza

Tonight when I answered the door, I was shocked to see a woman coming up the stairs to deliver my pizza. Those of you who live in suburbia, exurbia, and beyond won't recognize the significance of this. But here in the big, bad city, I would have been less surprised to see a hobbit come trudging up the steps of our porch. Females don't deliver food in Chicago. I've lived here for more than 12 years in three different neighborhoods (all relatively good), ordering pizza once a week on average, and I cannot recall ever getting my pizza from a woman before. It happens often on vacation, but never in the city.

Safety concerns are the obvious explanation. I don't have any statistics, but according to my scans of the local paper's police blotter, delivery people are robbed on a somewhat regular basis. Occasionally worse things happen, but usually it's just about cash.

Alas, women aren't any better than men at this job. Once again, I received a pizza with the cheese and toppings slid over to one side. That's the second time this week from two different restaurants. What the hell, can't anyone properly transport a pizza in this city anymore?

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