Dear hungry persons,
My name is Drew. I am a delivery driver. Specifically, I am a delivery driver for a sandwich place that stays open until 3 or 4 in the morning. Our store is located in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, which has a fairly large college. Our drivers deal with lots of things; trains, shitty traffic on game days, drunks, bad drivers, people that like to scream "JIMMY JOHN'S!" at us for no good goddamn reason, people that think we're a taxi cab service.
Now this letter won't apply to some of you. This letter is aimed at a specific group of people. Namely, shitty tippers. You know who you are; the person that has a $9.75 order and tells the driver to keep the change from a ten dollar bill, the person that has a $20 order and writes the largest possible zero on the gratuity line of the credit card receipt. You are the people that I have a problem with.
What you don't seem to understand is that me, and most other delivery drivers, make less than minimum wage. The tips that we receive make up that difference. Some days, I do pretty good. It's nice to leave work with $40 that I didn't have when I went to work. Other days, it's not so good. Shucks, the other day, I made 6 deliveries before I got as much as one dollar.
Tips are how delivery drivers, food servers, bartenders, etc. survive. It's how we pay our bills, pay our rent, buy our food. And in the case of drivers who work for companies that don't provide gasoline for their shifts, it's how we buy the gas so we can do our job. When you don't tip, we secretly hope that the fleas of 1,000 rabid animals attack your genitals (I do, anyway.)
So please, shitty tippers of the world, try to see where I'm coming from. I have to make a living just like you. Hell, I used to be one of you but I reformed my ways. Trust me, you'll feel better when you tip a fair amount.
Sincerely,
Drew
On a lighter note, it's been a while since I rambled on here. Not much has happened. This shitty tipper thing has been my biggest complaint. That and needing a new car battery. Yeah, I can't get my car to start without someone to jump me off. That's not good when you deliver food for a living. My brother and Livy came to town for the weekend. We all had a hoot and holler. I'm really enjoying how my Fridays and Saturdays have gone from sitting in a bar until 2 or 3 in the morning to sitting outside with friends and drinking with them. It's more fun, and much cheaper.
I've been working this fucked up schedule of closing one night and being back the next morning to work the lunch shift. I'm trying to pick up shifts that no one wants. I don't think I've slept more that 4 or 5 hours at a time. It's catching up to me. I'm tired all the time now. I don't want to leave my apartment. I just want to sleep. But I can't, because I have bills to pay and working 4 days a week won't cut it.
If anyone actually reads this, I'll be home this coming weekend. Let's have a couple of pints, play a few songs, or anything.
27 September 2009
14 September 2009
Maybe sleep deprivation has its perks
So I'm typing this in the library and just saw a Chinese exchange student throw up what looked eerily similar to the Nazi salute to get a girl's attention.
Since I've started working at Jimmy John's, I'm pretty sure the earliest that I've left there on a night that I close was about 3:30 in the morning. It was 5:30 when I left this past Friday. Last night, it was 4:10ish. That's not too out of the ordinary for me, considering that's about the time my night usually ends. Hell, it has a perk. One single solitary perk.
City Cafe.
I have this thing for diners. I can't explain it. I love greasy food, unending cups of coffee, and waitresses that call me "hun" and "sweetie". Okay, I just explained it. Anyway. City Cafe is just across the river in Northport and opens before the sun comes up. The food is amazing and the people that work there are nice. I was sitting there as the sun was starting to come up this morning, drinking my coffee and eating my meal (2 eggs over-medium, grits, sausage, biscuits, and gravy.) My mind started to wander. The food reminded me of something that my mother would fix for breakfast.
The whole time that I was eating, my waitress kept insisting that I put Golden Eagle syrup on my biscuit. You know, it's the stuff that made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches good in high school. I don't even like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I think they're gross. Golden Eagle and peanut butter, however, is fucktacular. Anyway, she kept offering and I kept beating around the bush, you know, like every other time that I don't really want to do anything. (Happy 4th of July, wanna fuck? Maybe later.) I finally caved. Why the hell not? It was 5am at this point and I only had to be back at work in 6 hours and 15 minutes.
If you're not familiar with this culinary delight, you just pour this stuff on a biscuit and eat it. It's called soppin'. Since we're in the South, the "g" at the end of sopping is not used. I'm writing this like a bunch of people from up north are reading it or something. I dunno. I mixed it with butter. You know, to make it a little more unhealthy. Fried eggs, fried sausage, questionable sweet substance on my biscuit.
I was in there a couple of weeks ago eating breakfast and got a piece of fried bologna to eat. When I ordered it, I totally expected two pieces of Oscar Meyer bologna. You know, not very large and kinda thin. Nope. It was one piece, about the size of a 45rpm record and almost a half inch thick. I could feel my chest tighten as I stabbed my fork into it. As I put the first bite in my mouth I could hear my heart shouting "Fuck off asshole! Don't do it! Don't do it! Don't do it!" As I took the last bite, I heard my heart tell my to get fucked. Watching the grease drip off just made it even better.
Another good thing about working that damn late is the battery in my iPod usually dies after about an hour and a half. It forces me to listen to the radio. The University of Alabama public radio station is awesome. Saturday nights is bluegrass until 1am. Sunday nights is soul and the blues until 1am. At 1am, my favorite part kicks in. The BBC World Service. There's nothing like hearing the news in a British accent, or a Scottish or Irish accent.
I'm pretty sure I was the most obnoxious person at the football game Saturday. I actually think I may have offended the entire University of Alabama softball team. That's what happens when you go to football games drunk and shout profanity-laden insults at the opposing team. It's funny though, to get dirty stares from other people wearing crimson and white.
There's a lady next to me in the library that is coughing so hard I think she's about to lose her lungs. Not even covering her mouth. Eww. Doesn't she know that the television tells us that we're going to catch swine flu? Cunt.
I'm 3 posts into this and I can already tell that it's pointless. Maybe it's cool that no one reads this and I can just ramble on and clear my head.
First math test of the semester one hour from now and 700 years of Russian history to read tonight.
Here's Tim Barry.
Since I've started working at Jimmy John's, I'm pretty sure the earliest that I've left there on a night that I close was about 3:30 in the morning. It was 5:30 when I left this past Friday. Last night, it was 4:10ish. That's not too out of the ordinary for me, considering that's about the time my night usually ends. Hell, it has a perk. One single solitary perk.
City Cafe.
I have this thing for diners. I can't explain it. I love greasy food, unending cups of coffee, and waitresses that call me "hun" and "sweetie". Okay, I just explained it. Anyway. City Cafe is just across the river in Northport and opens before the sun comes up. The food is amazing and the people that work there are nice. I was sitting there as the sun was starting to come up this morning, drinking my coffee and eating my meal (2 eggs over-medium, grits, sausage, biscuits, and gravy.) My mind started to wander. The food reminded me of something that my mother would fix for breakfast.
The whole time that I was eating, my waitress kept insisting that I put Golden Eagle syrup on my biscuit. You know, it's the stuff that made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches good in high school. I don't even like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I think they're gross. Golden Eagle and peanut butter, however, is fucktacular. Anyway, she kept offering and I kept beating around the bush, you know, like every other time that I don't really want to do anything. (Happy 4th of July, wanna fuck? Maybe later.) I finally caved. Why the hell not? It was 5am at this point and I only had to be back at work in 6 hours and 15 minutes.
If you're not familiar with this culinary delight, you just pour this stuff on a biscuit and eat it. It's called soppin'. Since we're in the South, the "g" at the end of sopping is not used. I'm writing this like a bunch of people from up north are reading it or something. I dunno. I mixed it with butter. You know, to make it a little more unhealthy. Fried eggs, fried sausage, questionable sweet substance on my biscuit.
I was in there a couple of weeks ago eating breakfast and got a piece of fried bologna to eat. When I ordered it, I totally expected two pieces of Oscar Meyer bologna. You know, not very large and kinda thin. Nope. It was one piece, about the size of a 45rpm record and almost a half inch thick. I could feel my chest tighten as I stabbed my fork into it. As I put the first bite in my mouth I could hear my heart shouting "Fuck off asshole! Don't do it! Don't do it! Don't do it!" As I took the last bite, I heard my heart tell my to get fucked. Watching the grease drip off just made it even better.
Another good thing about working that damn late is the battery in my iPod usually dies after about an hour and a half. It forces me to listen to the radio. The University of Alabama public radio station is awesome. Saturday nights is bluegrass until 1am. Sunday nights is soul and the blues until 1am. At 1am, my favorite part kicks in. The BBC World Service. There's nothing like hearing the news in a British accent, or a Scottish or Irish accent.
I'm pretty sure I was the most obnoxious person at the football game Saturday. I actually think I may have offended the entire University of Alabama softball team. That's what happens when you go to football games drunk and shout profanity-laden insults at the opposing team. It's funny though, to get dirty stares from other people wearing crimson and white.
There's a lady next to me in the library that is coughing so hard I think she's about to lose her lungs. Not even covering her mouth. Eww. Doesn't she know that the television tells us that we're going to catch swine flu? Cunt.
I'm 3 posts into this and I can already tell that it's pointless. Maybe it's cool that no one reads this and I can just ramble on and clear my head.
First math test of the semester one hour from now and 700 years of Russian history to read tonight.
Here's Tim Barry.
08 September 2009
I'm almost certain that grabbing a train going 45mph would certainly kill me
If anyone has bothered to read this thing so far, the one pointless post that I have made, and you were entertained or whatever to the point that you came back for more, then welcome back.
This one was going to be about baseball, namely about how NOT STOKED I am that the season is nearing its end and how the Braves amazingly made it a little farther into the season before shooting themselves in the foot and dashing a possible playoff run. There's always 2010.
Jesus Christ, I sound like a Cubs fan. Eww....
Rather, I'm just going to ramble.
I've officially been a college student for 4 years now. For anyone keeping up, I'm only a sophomore. Four hours away from being a junior, but a 22 year-old sophomore nonetheless. I'm saying this because throughout my time at 4 year schools, I have had one major pain in my ass: student loans and the banks that make them. Okay, that's two. Fuck off. They're mainly a pain in my ass (and most other college students that don't have parents that can afford to put them through college) because I'm a chronic procrastinator. My high school guidance counselor told my mother that when I was 16 or 17, and it's still true 5 or 6 years later. I wait until the last minute to apply for the shit and never seem to understand that banks like to dick around and drag you around by the nutsack, making you fax all of this shit in and sign that and sacrifice your first born son to the gods of higher education and blow a goat and all of that horse shit.
After all of that, when the check arrives and clears the bank and tuition and books are paid and bought and rent and bills are paid and WAAAAAAYYYYYY too much of it is wasted on getting drunk six nights a week, you have nothing to look forward to but the panic caused by knowing you're in your twenties and tens of thousands of dollars in debt. Fortunately for me, I never intend on buying a house or very much else that requires good credit and monthly payments until the end of the world. Apartments and used cars suit me just fine.
What I'm getting at is, if you are an institute that is responsible for loaning ungodly amounts of money to people that shouldn't receive large amounts of money (much like myself,) please go to hell.
I love trains. I really do. I honestly love watching a freight train speeding up and down the tracks. Hell, I'll get up and go outside at 2 or 3 in the morning just to watch one pass. I love the sound of a train passing at 3 in the morning. I love knowing that the trains that pass behind my apartment here in Tuscaloosa run through Attalla and near my house everyday. The same train that made me late for school almost every morning that I was high school is the same one that runs through here everyday roughly 3 hours later.
A good night for me involves getting drunk (or at least having a couple of drinks) and wandering up and down the tracks, climbing on the cars that Norfolk Southern and CSX and KCS have left near my place. A good night involves walking down the tracks and jumping out of the way as a train with eight locomotives heads north through town. Being 20 feet from a speeding train is a feeling I can't explain.
My brother and his girlfriend are coming down to visit in a couple of weeks. We were talking about it last night and he said that he wants to get drunk and walk down the tracks with me. I don't have many memories of my grandfather on my mom's side. He died a week and a half after I turned 7. But one that is very clear in my mind is the one of him taking my brother and me down to the tracks when we were little, letting us climb on the cars and putting us in open boxcars. I think that's why I love trains so much.
Anyone want to pack up and steal a ride on one? It'd be fun as hell, even more dangerous, and we'll have a rad story to tell if we don't die (which is a very real possibility; being pulled under, falling through a suicide car, freezing to death in a freezer car, etc.) Dodging car knockers and bulls so we don't get thrown off. I'm willing to take the risks if someone is willing to do it with me.
Before I finish up, I need a new phone. If you use T-Mobile and have an old phone that isn't a total piece of shit, please send it my way. My phone has been continually fucking up and the phone that I'm using now, my brother's old one, has a pretty shitty battery.
Oh yeah, I apparently ask people to marry me when I get drunk.
On an unrelated note, would someone like to buy me a 4-pack of Yuengling tall boys? They're only $5.
Here's Sundowner with "Midsummer Classic".
This one was going to be about baseball, namely about how NOT STOKED I am that the season is nearing its end and how the Braves amazingly made it a little farther into the season before shooting themselves in the foot and dashing a possible playoff run. There's always 2010.
Jesus Christ, I sound like a Cubs fan. Eww....
Rather, I'm just going to ramble.
I've officially been a college student for 4 years now. For anyone keeping up, I'm only a sophomore. Four hours away from being a junior, but a 22 year-old sophomore nonetheless. I'm saying this because throughout my time at 4 year schools, I have had one major pain in my ass: student loans and the banks that make them. Okay, that's two. Fuck off. They're mainly a pain in my ass (and most other college students that don't have parents that can afford to put them through college) because I'm a chronic procrastinator. My high school guidance counselor told my mother that when I was 16 or 17, and it's still true 5 or 6 years later. I wait until the last minute to apply for the shit and never seem to understand that banks like to dick around and drag you around by the nutsack, making you fax all of this shit in and sign that and sacrifice your first born son to the gods of higher education and blow a goat and all of that horse shit.
After all of that, when the check arrives and clears the bank and tuition and books are paid and bought and rent and bills are paid and WAAAAAAYYYYYY too much of it is wasted on getting drunk six nights a week, you have nothing to look forward to but the panic caused by knowing you're in your twenties and tens of thousands of dollars in debt. Fortunately for me, I never intend on buying a house or very much else that requires good credit and monthly payments until the end of the world. Apartments and used cars suit me just fine.
What I'm getting at is, if you are an institute that is responsible for loaning ungodly amounts of money to people that shouldn't receive large amounts of money (much like myself,) please go to hell.
I love trains. I really do. I honestly love watching a freight train speeding up and down the tracks. Hell, I'll get up and go outside at 2 or 3 in the morning just to watch one pass. I love the sound of a train passing at 3 in the morning. I love knowing that the trains that pass behind my apartment here in Tuscaloosa run through Attalla and near my house everyday. The same train that made me late for school almost every morning that I was high school is the same one that runs through here everyday roughly 3 hours later.
A good night for me involves getting drunk (or at least having a couple of drinks) and wandering up and down the tracks, climbing on the cars that Norfolk Southern and CSX and KCS have left near my place. A good night involves walking down the tracks and jumping out of the way as a train with eight locomotives heads north through town. Being 20 feet from a speeding train is a feeling I can't explain.
My brother and his girlfriend are coming down to visit in a couple of weeks. We were talking about it last night and he said that he wants to get drunk and walk down the tracks with me. I don't have many memories of my grandfather on my mom's side. He died a week and a half after I turned 7. But one that is very clear in my mind is the one of him taking my brother and me down to the tracks when we were little, letting us climb on the cars and putting us in open boxcars. I think that's why I love trains so much.
Anyone want to pack up and steal a ride on one? It'd be fun as hell, even more dangerous, and we'll have a rad story to tell if we don't die (which is a very real possibility; being pulled under, falling through a suicide car, freezing to death in a freezer car, etc.) Dodging car knockers and bulls so we don't get thrown off. I'm willing to take the risks if someone is willing to do it with me.
Before I finish up, I need a new phone. If you use T-Mobile and have an old phone that isn't a total piece of shit, please send it my way. My phone has been continually fucking up and the phone that I'm using now, my brother's old one, has a pretty shitty battery.
Oh yeah, I apparently ask people to marry me when I get drunk.
On an unrelated note, would someone like to buy me a 4-pack of Yuengling tall boys? They're only $5.
Here's Sundowner with "Midsummer Classic".
05 September 2009
The pigskin is actually leather so Jews can play football
If you want to know why I've titled this load of crap that is nothing but me rambling The Asswipe Chronicles, ask me sometime and I'll tell you. Maybe.
Welcome back, least favorite time of the year! I'm gonna say it. Fuck college football. Hell, fuck football. Hell, just a year ago, I liked college football. I think it's almost obligatory considering I go to Alabama, the school with the most mascots in the SEC (a woman's menstrual cycle, an elephant, and a dead Bear.) I even went to a few games, cheered for my school, and cursed the Auburn football team so much at the Iron Bowl that the people around me in the UA student section were offended (apparently calling them "child-touching cocksuckers" goes too far, whatever.)
But I realized after a couple of weeks, and my close proximity to Bryant-Denny Stadium, that I would not be enjoying this for very long. I like to be able to get to places that only take me five minutes to get there in five minutes. Not 45 minutes, while some asshole and his drunk, ugly girlfriend try to get me to pay $25 to park in their yard (but they had free beer!). Fuckers. And don't get me started on the drunk white trash that show up and act like there is a desk at the city limits where they check their common decency, only to retrieve it on the way out of town. "Hey Joe Jack, I've got an empty beer can. Throw it in the trash for me!"
"Fuck that shit Billy, throw it on the ground!"
I hate Tuscaloosa. I hate college football. If you're going to come to the city where I live and trash the place, please die. Or suck a dog's dick. Either one will suffice.
But then again, I'll more than likely watch or try to get tickets to the games. Roll Goddamn Motherfuckin' Tide Roll.
I'm gonna post music videos at the end of this thing because I feel like my taste in music is better than yours. Here's a Fake Problems video.
Diamond Rings
Welcome back, least favorite time of the year! I'm gonna say it. Fuck college football. Hell, fuck football. Hell, just a year ago, I liked college football. I think it's almost obligatory considering I go to Alabama, the school with the most mascots in the SEC (a woman's menstrual cycle, an elephant, and a dead Bear.) I even went to a few games, cheered for my school, and cursed the Auburn football team so much at the Iron Bowl that the people around me in the UA student section were offended (apparently calling them "child-touching cocksuckers" goes too far, whatever.)
But I realized after a couple of weeks, and my close proximity to Bryant-Denny Stadium, that I would not be enjoying this for very long. I like to be able to get to places that only take me five minutes to get there in five minutes. Not 45 minutes, while some asshole and his drunk, ugly girlfriend try to get me to pay $25 to park in their yard (but they had free beer!). Fuckers. And don't get me started on the drunk white trash that show up and act like there is a desk at the city limits where they check their common decency, only to retrieve it on the way out of town. "Hey Joe Jack, I've got an empty beer can. Throw it in the trash for me!"
"Fuck that shit Billy, throw it on the ground!"
I hate Tuscaloosa. I hate college football. If you're going to come to the city where I live and trash the place, please die. Or suck a dog's dick. Either one will suffice.
But then again, I'll more than likely watch or try to get tickets to the games. Roll Goddamn Motherfuckin' Tide Roll.
I'm gonna post music videos at the end of this thing because I feel like my taste in music is better than yours. Here's a Fake Problems video.
Diamond Rings
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