I went from being a more than well-to-do day trader to delivering pizza. It's a long story, but let's say that a lawsuit and deferred jail time were the result of the whole fiasco.
I wasn't broke, I still had money, but I had to be careful about how I accessed that money because I had eyes on me 24/7. My last honest job was when I was in high school. I worked for old man Gino, who owned one of the previous Pizzeria in town. I was one of his delivery boys. I had good memories of that place until the two major pizza chains blew into town and put him out of business. It's because of those nostalgic memories that I applied as a delivery driver instead of a cook. Slinging pizza was never really my thing.At the initial interview, they took one look at my resume and told me that I was overqualified. I agreed, but I had to tell them about my dilemma. I had to show that I was holding down a solid nine-to-five job and that whoever hired me had to let my parole officer know if I was doing great or if I was royally fucking up. Turns out that this particular pizza establishment was short on everything, but more specifically, drivers. During training and orientation, they told me that I had the option of using my own car, one of their electric bikes, or a moped. I ended up using my Mini-Cooper. It was small, fast, and as far as parking, it could fit in small spaces. They showed the boundary of where we could deliver and where we could not, which was simple. My route included the downtown and the surrounding area. That was mainly the business and town district. The beauty of the job is that all kinds of people want pizza, and I got to meet them all. When business was slow and the orders for delivery weren't coming in, I'd jump on the cash register or I'd help make pizzas.
Shauna Corpuz was the assistant store manager who cracked the whip on everybody. No one was an exception as long as you did your job as expected and you didn't complain. Now and again, the store manager would hire some mainland upstart who thought he knew more than anyone else. That was Drake Convarras. He was hired mainly for the day shift, but Drake had designs on getting promoted and possibly managing his own store sooner rather than later. One of the things Drake had to learn was how to work a closing shift. Shauna had always been the closing shift manager. When Drake clocked on for his first shift, he immediately began to order everyone around. When he met Shauna, the initial encounter was brief.
"Drake, you're on Pizza tonight," Shauna said. "Merril, you're with me and Drake," Shauna grabbed Merril by his shoulders and redirected him to the kitchen. "Costa, and Fely, you're at the register. All the drivers are out making deliveries, Drak,e that's who you and Merril are making pizzas for. Let's get to work and make some pizza!"
"No," Drake protested. "I'm not making pizza, I'm here to learn how to close the store."
"This store doesn't close until midnight," Shauna replied. "So, from now until midnight, you're making pizza! Just so you know, I'm not asking your permission."
"I'm supposed to learn to be the closing manager!" Drake stalked toward Shauna. "There was nothing in that description about having to make pizza!" The last thing Drake remembered was poking Shauna's shoulder with his finger. The next thing he knew, he was waking up on the floor, with literal stars floating around him. That was it for Drake. The corporation let him go, with a less-than-favorable recommendation.
Shauna, it turns out, graduated from high school but didn't have enough money for college or a trade school. The pizza business was a way for her to find some status in life for herself and her parents. She was tough as shit, even though she wasn't college smart, she was sharp as a nail. Nothing got past her. She ran a tight ship, and everyone respected and trusted her.
She was sketchy about me, and I could understand that.
"What's day trading?" She asked one day.
"It's watching the stock market, basically," I told her. "It's not easy to explain if you don't know about it."
"Then explain it," she was forthright with that edge in her voice, like she was going to smack you at any second without warning. "Or you think I'm too stupid to understand, college boy?"
"No, I didn't say that," I backpedaled. "I can tell you when I'm on my break."
"We'll see," she smirked.
It was a banner day for strange people and assholes on the delivery route. I had a plain cheese pizza delivered to a corporate building on Bishop Street on a higher floor. It was a lone local Japanese man in an immaculate light brown suit. He received the pizza and the drink from me after the order was confirmed. In return, he handed me a $300 tip, but when he gave it to me, he grabbed my hand and placed it in his palm.
"There's more of this if you'll just do me one favor," He smiled.
"A favor?" I asked, not knowing what was going on.
"Yes," he said. "I'll give you $300 more if you'll kick me in the nuts."
"No thanks," I said while turning to leave.
He grabbed my arm and spun me around. "Specifically, the space between my butthole and my balls. Kick me there and I'll give you more money.
"No thanks," I pulled my arm away and walked out of the office. While waiting for my elevator, the local Japanese man followed me. "What the fuck, do you want?" I yelled at him.
"It's obvious you're not into men," he apologized. "My mistake, but if I can get a woman to join us, do you think you'd like that? Then you can kick me in the nuts while she kicks me in my asshole."
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in. When he tried to join me, I pushed-kicked him in his chest, sending him flying backwards. The second I got back to the shop, I called Shauna and asked if we could step into the office for a personal matter. I told her everything that just happened and that a full investigation must be made about this perv who makes these bogus delivery requests for pizza.
A second later, that same local Japanese man walks into the store and all the pizza makers, moped people, and delivery guys break out in wild laughter. "Meet Teddy Shimamura, the store manager and resident asshole," Shauna said. "You've been punked."
"Welcome to the store!" Teddy patted my shoulder. "You're officially one of us!"
"Muther-fucker, I'm keeping the three hundred dollars," I said, showing him the three large bills and stuffing them in my pocket.
~
Here's the ghost story. Shauna and I were complete opposites. However, the longer I worked with her, the more I saw her for who she was. She loved her parents, so there she was busting her ass slinging pizza so she could eventually buy her folks a house and give them a comfortable life. My whole life up until now, I've been a dipshit, and all I ever had to care about was me. Shauna, in her spare time, was with the management program, which would explain the loads of folders and books she'd bring with her everywhere. She wanted her own store, her own franchise. She wanted to retire early, live comfortably, and not have to worry about money. I tried to work through my probation and get back to day trading in some capacity.
"I give you a lot of credit," I told Shauna one day while loading pizzas into my bag for a delivery.
"Oh yeah? Why?" She asked while using the big slicer on a stuffed crust.
"You're an assistant manager, you bust ass every day, and you put up with us idiots and your pervert boss," I began. "Plus, whenever you have even the slightest time, you're buried in those books, studying how to open your own franchise. That's crazy, I don't know how you do it. I know I couldn't."
"Shut up," she laughed. "Go make your delivery before you're late."
"Uh, yeah, sure," I was headed out the door when she called after me.
"Nah, for real though, thanks," she waved.
The deliveries were a pain in the ass, because yes, people paid by credit card over the phone or online, but when it came to giving a tip, they were giving me coins, like quarters, dimes, and nickels. I'm talking about people at a law office purposely being dicks. To them I removed their pizza from the bag and dropped it on the floor before they could take it. I have no time for bullshit. The apartment building right off Vineyard? A bunch of scrubs blocked the stairway and tried to hijack me for the pizza. Again, more bullshit. I just pulled out the mace I had tucked in my side pocket and gave them a little spray. The customer got her order with no problem. Then there are people cutting you off in traffic, or not looking at you before they pull out of a driveway. There are about five cars on Bishop Street that have their hoods caved in. Worse, a woman was chasing me from the top of Alakea, all the way down to the Davies Pacific Center, yelling and swearing up a storm that I ignored her when she came out to collect her delivery. She called me every name in the book until I looked at where she made her order. Not only was her order not from our store, it wasn't even from our brand.
It was from the Hut.
Fucking bitch.
It was a little past one in the morning when I walked into the store. I was looking forward to paying for a cold drink to parch my thirst. It was quiet; no one was upfront or anywhere in the back. That's when I saw Shauna come out from the side and walk out the front door. It was like she was either looking for something or answering a call from somebody outside. I couldn't quite make out who it was across the street that was waiting for her, but it was a group of people that seemed to be more shadow than substance. The phone rang and I jumped out of my pants. Someone was calling for a medium pizza with all the fixings. I took the order and went straight to the back to start the pizza. That's when I saw Shauna lying on the floor in a pool of blood. She's been shot in the heart sometime earlier on; she probably died instantly. I checked the back office. It was an attempted robbery, but whoever did not was not successful. The cash registers were fine, which probably meant that Shauna refused to give the robbers any money. It's for that reason I think they killed her. Sons of fucking assholes, how could they? She worked so hard for everything, and this is what she gets? Fuck.
Shauna's services were paid for by an anonymous donor. The care of her parents was also provided by the same anonymous donor. To honor her sincere efforts, I opened my own pizzeria. I have an MBA, so of course I can. It's called Shauna's Pizzeria, and it's got a back and white picture of her and her folks right up front. As for day trading, it's not going anywhere. I'll get to it when I can.
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