Continued from the previous chapter, here.

Asa Pemewan followed Manny as the latter walked back into the restaurant. “Put the bag back on the rack and come over here, Newbie,” Manny said as he reached into his pocket. Asa complied quickly and quietly, joining Manny at one of the restaurant’s two cash registers.

“Normally, we use the one register,” and Manny pointed to one as he spoke, “for carry-out orders and dine-in. The other,” and he pointed at the one he stood before, “is usually reserved for delivery work. It gets really busy in here, we run both on both, depending on which one’s open at any given moment. But it’s not often that busy. Middle of the day like this, almost never.

“So, what you do is you come back from the run, and you come to a register and tell who’s running it that you need to cash in an order. That’ll usually be a manager, but I’ve got it, too. The order’ll get pulled up, and you’ll be told how much you owe. You pay it–and get change if you need it. First few orders, you’ll need change every time. Later, you can give the exact amount. Then you check and see if there’s another order ready. If there is, you take it and go. There ain’t, you see if they need help on make table–well, later for you. You go see if dishes need doing or something else needs cleaning. We’ll get you trained up on the make table, but that’ll happen later.”

Asa nodded along as Manny rattled off the things that would need doing. “Well, Newbie,” Manny added, “is there another order ready? Move your ass and check!”

Asa hurried over to the rack, seeing only empty bags on it. He then peered into the pizza oven, seeing two pies in it. He looked above the table where he had seen Felicia cut the pizza earlier and noted a tag hanging from it. “Delivery” appeared on it, and Asa said “We’ve got one coming out before long. I’ll check the address while it cooks.”

Manny nodded as Asa did so, running a finger over the map along a route from the restaurant south on 701 to just inside the marked delivery area. “It looks like we’re going to be out longer this time; the order’s south of town.”

“Got a name on it?”

Asa returned to the table and looked at the tag again. “Damn! It does.”

“You don’t seem pleased, Newbie.”

“It’s a guy I know, a guy named Richard. He’s not a friend.”

“Well, damn, I guess I’m not getting a tip this run. But you’re gonna run into folks you know, since you’re from here, and some of ’em ain’t gonna be your friends. Still got to make the run, deliver the pie. So you’ll have to suck it up, Newbie. But it’ll get easier the more you do it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. What, you think I ain’t got folks who don’t like–pies’re comin’ out.” Manny pointed to the end of the oven, which was disgorging its steaming food. “Watch Felicia, now.”

Asa did so, noting once again how deftly the woman flipped the pies out of their metal plates and dropped the cutting tool across them over and over, separating one pie into eighths and the other into twelfths. She boxed them and handed them to Asa, her words to him again oozing disdainfully from her mouth. “Marginally better, Newbie. Try to do it yourself next time.”

“I will” said Asa as he pivoted with the boxed pizzas in hand and put them into one of the insulated sacks. He grabbed the ticket from atop them and waited for Manny to check out the order, then followed the senior driver out of the restaurant and to his car. Asa sat silently as they drove, and when Manny pulled up in front of Richard’s house, Asa got out of the car with the pizzas in hand and walked with his trainer to the door.

Arriving at it, Manny said “Check for a doorbell first. This one doesn’t look to have one, so knock.” Asa did, and they waited for a minute before the door opened. A scruffy face showed through the gap between door and frame. “Yeah?”

Manny stepped forward slightly. “Pizza’s here. You Richard?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be $21.73, sir.” Manny waved Asa over and began to take the pizzas from the bag.

“Why’s it take two of you to deliver some pizzas?”

“Training the new guy.”

“Huh. Well, looks like all his schooling did him good.”

Asa felt himself blush. Manny repeated the price of the pizzas, and Richard handed over the exact amount; four five-dollar bills, a one, seven dimes, and three pennies. He took the pizzas and shut the door forcefully.

As they walked back to the car, Asa asked Manny “Does that happen often?”

“What?” came the quick reply.

“Getting no tip and getting the door slammed in your face?”

“More of the first than the second.” They got back into Manny’s car. “Some folks are tight.” The car started. “Some’re just poor.” Manny pulled out, making a U-turn in the street. “They tend to apologize for not tipping. One guy, though, used to be a rep over in Austin kept trying to stiff me on the bill, which was an asshole move. I voted against him as often as I could.”

“And slammed doors?”

“It happens. Like I said, everybody’s got folks that hate ’em. Doin’ this, it puts you into a position where folks think they can act out. Sometimes, we’ve got it comin’. Most of the time, though, assholes is assholes. They’ve gotta be handled. No way around it.

“Most folks’re okay, though. Most of ’em.”

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Continued from the previous chapter, here.

From the end of the pizza oven–a mechanical monster belching hundreds of degrees of heat from its mesh-track innards–came a pie a foot across and just over an inch deep, thick dough piled with cheese and meats and mushrooms. One of the cooking crew, a young woman named Felicia, deftly snagged the pie from the end of the oven, shucking it from the pan in which it had cooked and onto a weathered wooden paddle. Stashing the pan under the table and taking a yard-long metal arc from atop it, she rocked the arc through the pizza, splitting it in half, into quarters, into eighths before sliding the pie into a waiting cardboard box. Twists of her wrists closed the box, and Felicia snagged a hanging ticket; she called out for a driver, and Manny nudged Asa Pemewan. “Go get it, Newbie. It’s our run.”

Asa nodded and hustled over to the waiting cook. “Get it faster next time, Newbie” oozed out of her mouth as Asa took the rapidly warming box and printed ticket from her. Manny said behind him “Put the pie in a bag, and check the address on the map.” Asa did as he was bidden, sliding the pizza into an insulated bag an peering intently at the address on the ticket–an address low on West Fourth–then at the map. Manny asked “How do we get there?”

Asa thought back on what he had been told not long before and what he knew of the town from having grown up in it. “Normally, we’d take Water to North Oak and cut up to Fourth. But there’s still cleanup going on on Oak between Second and Third, so we can either take North Main and have to make left turns, or we can take North Cedar and extend the trip by a couple of blocks. Cedar’ll probably be quicker.”

“What about coming across Fourth from College?”

“College has lots of stop signs on it. And there’ll be pedestrians, even with it being summer. Probably slower, unless Cedar’s got cleanup I didn’t see. Which it might; a lot of people are still trying to get back from the Tuesday Storm.”

“Don’t I know it. But, yeah, Cedar’ll do. We’ll time it. So, what you do when you take a run is look for the order. Number should be on top of the ticket.” Manny pointed, Asa noted and nodded, and Manny went on. “On the computer by the pizza rack, you look for the order, highlight it, and select it.” He did so. “Then the machine’s gonna ask which driver, by initials. All three. Ain’t got a middle name, use X where the middle initial oughta go.” He entered his own. “Then the order vanishes, ’cause it’s yours. And then you hustle your ass out the door and to the car so that you can drive to make the run. Should take about twenty minutes, check-out to cash-in, so let’s go!” He snatched the bag and ticket and rushed out through the door whence he had entered not long before. Asa hurried to follow and took the shotgun seat in Manny’s car.

Manny slung himself into his driver’s seat and handed Asa the bag. “Hold this” he said as he started the car, lurched it into gear, and headed towards the customer Asa was sure was tapping an impatient foot and glaring at the advancing second hand of a watch. And Asa was sure he was not going to survive to accept the customer’s abuse, for Manny wove around the other vehicles on the road, scooting through two yellow lights and slowing down just enough to count as a stop when turning onto Fourth from Cedar. All the while, through, Manny kept up a friendly chatter, more than once commenting on Asa’s white-knuckle grip on the pizza bag–“Keep that up, Newbie, and you’ll crush the pie”–and the door-pull afterward–“Gonna need a new one, you keep crimping that thing.” The tone was reasonably good-natured, and Asa recognized it as a joke, but he did not loosen his grip until Manny pulled the car to a stop and said “Hand me the bag.”

Asa did so, and Manny slung himself out of the car, hustling up the driveway to the house whose address matched that on the order ticket. Asa could see him knock, saw the door open, saw pizza leave the bag and go into waiting hands and money come from those hands into Manny’s apron pocket. Manny returned and slung himself back into the car, thrusting the bag back at Asa. “Come up with me next time, Newbie. I should’ve told you that this time, but you should’ve guessed at it, too.”

As the car started back up, Asa said “I will.”

“Good. You won’t learn unless you do.” Manny pulled back out into West Fourth street and turned onto Main. “Heading back’s not as urgent as heading out. Back keep you from getting new business, sure, but out gets you yelled at and calls to the store. Also gets you less money. Neither helps.”

Asa nodded and found himself gripping the door again. Manny laughed at him. “You’re gonna need to relax, Newbie. Give yourself a heart attack in my car, I’ll kick your ass.” He smiled as he said it, but Asa got the sense that he more or less meant it, and he replied dryly “I’ll try to wait until we get back into the restaurant.”

“Good! Then Jennifer has to fill out the paperwork, and I can make another delivery!” Manny laughed again, and Asa began to realize that low-level haranguing would be going on for a long time while he was working at the pizza place.

He thought I’d better get used to it.

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Continued from the previous chapter, here.

Asa Pemewan did not have to wait long. When a short, stout man, scruffily bearded and with shoulder-length curly hair came in through the side door, Jennifer called out “Hi, Manny!” and Asa turned to face him, raising his own hand in greeting.

Manny replied “Hi, Jen,” and punched a series of numbers on the keypad by the door to the breakroom. “So, we’ve got a newbie?”

Jennifer nodded. “That we do! Manny, this is Asa Pemewan.” She gestured to Asa; he extended his hand. “Asa, Manny Davis.” Manny took the hand, shaking it; his hand was somewhat oily, but his grip was firm. “He’s just signed on as a driver, so if you could show him how it works today, I’d be grateful.”

“Can do. So,” and he turned to Asa, “first thing’s first. Driving’s a cash-handling job, so you’ll need a bank. You got an apron?”

Asa shook his head. “No, sir.”

Manny smirked. “Sir, huh? Well, you keep calling me that, Newbie. And you get an apron, one of the half-aprons, like this one.” He gestured towards his waist, around which he had tied a six-inch wide strip of black cloth with three pockets in it. “Should be some in the storage closet in the breakroom.”

Asa nodded and retrieved an apron of his own, tying it around his own waist as he came back. Manny nodded. “Good. Now, one pocket, you’ll want to keep a couple pens, maybe a rag of some kind. ‘Nother pocket’ll be where you keep your bank. Now, when you clock in next time, Jennifer–or whoever’s running the store; we’ve got two other management, and District sometimes shows up and runs things–will issue you some money. You’ve gotta make change, y’know. So you’ll get–” he gestured, and Jennifer opened a cash drawer–“twenty dollars total. It’ll be a ten, a five, four ones, three quarters, a dime, two nickels, and pennies to round out. You take pies to people, they give you money, you make change. You come back, give the store the money owed for the pies, you get what’s left. Customers give you more, you keep it. Customers give you less, they don’t get pies. Easy, right?”

Asa nodded. Manny continued. “Good. So, you also get a buck a run. Make twenty runs, you don’t give back your bank. Make more, the store gives you more. Make less, you balance the store up to twenty minus the number of runs you make. So, make twelve runs, you give the store eight back at the end of the night. Make twenty-five, the store gives you five more. Make sense?”

Asa nodded again. “It does.”

“Good! So money’s handled.” Manny paused and frowned. “Wait, no. No. Always count back the change the old-school way–unless a customer says to keep the change. Then you make sure you got enough to start with. But if they don’t, you count back up. So if you got an order for $18.66, customer gives you a twenty, you do this.” Manny pulled out his own bank and counted up. “Sixty-six is sixty-seven,” and he counted out a penny, “sixty-eight,” another, “sixty-nine,” another, “seventy,” another, “seventy-five,” a nickel,” makes nineteen,” a quarter, “and twenty,” and a one-dollar bill joined the coins. “Usually, you count it into the customer’s hand. Sometimes, they want it on top of the pies. Then, whatever they give you–even if it’s nothing, and there’re some assholes who’ll do that–you say ‘Thanks’ or something like that, and you smile when you say it. Then you hustle your happy ass back to the car and get back to the store. Got it?”

Asa nodded yet again. “I think so. Practice’ll help.”

“It will. So, money’s handled. But you’re not gonna get anywhere you don’t know where you’re going. So, look at the map.” He gestured to a wall from which hung a map of Pronghorn with a dark marker-line drawn irregularly through the outskirts of town. “Inside the line’s the delivery area. Outside, we don’t go while we’re on the clock. Had a guy get stabbed in the junk a couple years ago doin’ that. Not an experience we want repeated. Make sense?”

Asa squeezed his legs together at the suggestion of genital trauma and nodded. “Stay inside the lines. Got it.”

“Now, you from here?” Asa nodded. “Then you know the numbers run parallel. Two hundred block of East Second’s due south of 200 block of East Third. Creek screws with it a little, but not bad. Numbers start at Main and the creek. Try not to be on Main or Park; traffic’s a pain in the ass. Water’s not got many lights or stops, so it’s your friend. School zone’s an absolute. Do. Not. Speed. Through. It. Cops will pull you over, and they will take all damned day with you. Don’t be an example. Make sense?”

“It does.”

“Good!” Manny glanced at a rack not far from the door. “So, pizzas’ll go there in the warming bags when they’re made and boxed. You might get to help with that; depends on if they need help on the cut table or the make table. But they’ll teach you that when you need to know it. For now, you’ll get to deal with the pizzas that’re put in bags–along with cheese bread and wings and such. Sandwiches and pasta, too, now. At least for now. Corporate keeps shipping in stuff and not telling anybody. Pain in the ass, really. But you’ll handle it, right?”

Asa nodded once again. “I can.”

“Good! It looks like an order’s about to come out of the oven. Give it a couple-three minutes, and we’ll be on our way with it. I’l show you once or twice, have you do it guided, and then, tomorrow, you’ll be doing it on your own.

“Welcome to the team, Newbie.”

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Continued from the previous chapter, here.

On Monday, as directed, Asa Pemewan returned to the Pizza Place, clad in a black t-shirt, khaki slacks, and black sneakers. The last were new to him, bought over the weekend from a local thrift shop in anticipation of coming to work. And I can get newer shoes after the first paycheck, Asa thought. These just have to get me through until then.

Jennifer greeted him shortly after he walked into the restaurant. “Hi, Asa! Welcome back! Did you have a good weekend?”

Asa did what he could to match her cheer. He smiled, nodded, and replied “It was better knowing that I had work to come to at the end of it.”

“That’s great! Keep up that kind of attitude, and you’ll do fine! So, come on back, and we’ll get you started.” She gestured to the back room again, and Asa followed. Jennifer continued to talk as they went along.

“So, you’ll have to read through the orientation packet. I’ll set you up in the payroll system while you do, and I’ll clock you in at two–it’s a couple minutes past, now. When you come in, you’ll clock in on the keypad by the back room.” She pointed at a wall-mounted number-pad as they passed. “You’ll clock out the same way. You’ll have an ID number in your orientation packet. Key it in on the number pad. Then it’ll ask for your password. That’ll start as your birthday. The first time you use the system, it’ll ask you to change it. Do so. It’s like a PIN number for your ATM.”

Asa nodded as they reached the back room. “Got it.”

“Good! So,” and here, Jennifer pointed towards one of the tables, “you’ve got the packet and your two shirts. Duck into the bathroom and put one on, and please tuck it in.”

Asa nodded again. “Not a problem,” he said, and he went into the bathroom, soon emerging with the polo–black with blue collar and blue elastic on the ends of its sleeves and a slice of pizza embroidered over the left breast; a pair of sewn rounds sat high on the right–on and tucked in smartly. A driving cap had been included in the package with the shirt; Asa had it on his head, as well. When he returned to the back room, Jennifer said “It looks good on you! You’ll notice a couple of circles sewn into the shirt. Your nametag goes there.” She tossed him one; he caught it and saw that its white plastic had “Pizza Place” engraved into it. A printed label on it read “Newbie,” and Asa looked up at Jennier quizzically. She smiled “It’s a bit of a tradition. You’re the new hire, so you’re ‘Newbie’ until someone else signs on. Then you get your own nametag.”

She sat. “Everybody here’s worn one of those. I think that’s the third one the store’s had. They do wear out after a while. But you may not be wearing it long. We still need another driver.”

“That’s a comfort.”

“Just think, though! Until we get another new driver, there’ll be a lot of business for you. That means more tips for you, more money in your pocket.” She leaned in. “This is one of the few jobs that actually rewards you for working harder. Make more deliveries, get more money. Make deliveries faster, make more deliveries. Work harder, make deliveries faster. It works out for you. Or, at least, it does if you’re willing to work for it. Are you willing, Asa?”

Asa nodded. “I am.”

Jennifer nodded sharply in reply. “Good! Then you’ll need to go through the orientation packet. Read it, do the assessments that’re in it, and keep it ready while you work here. Other than for the orientation, I’m not going to quiz you or anything, but you’ll need to know what all it says. Company policies are all in it, and we’d really like you to follow policy. It’s kind of the point of having policies, you know.”

“I understand,” Asa said.

“Good! Well, I’ve got to get back to the front of the store. Customers come in, they expect to see smiling faces and food getting ready, and I get to make sure that they do! Come get me when you get done. I’ll have you start out on the make table, work it for a while until the head driver comes in. He’ll be the one who trains you.”

“He, who?”

“Manny Davis. He’s been here for a few years. I’ve got one or two folks’ve worked here longer, but Manny’s got the best driving record. Works the make table like a boss, too. Won’t take a management job, though. I don’t understand why.”

I think I do, Asa thought, but he nodded his head and said “Okay. Thanks.”

“Alrighty, then.” And Jennifer popped back up to the front of the restaurant, leaving Asa alone in the break room with his orientation packet. He opened it and read, finding the first few pages generally saccharine materials congratulating him on taking the first step into an exciting, fast-paced career with ample opportunities for advancement. After the laudatory tract ended and a company history was presented (“Pizza Place Pizza Parlor first opened in Gary, Indiana, in 1962.”), the dry corporate boilerplate began, outlining the restaurant’s reporting hierarchy (employees report to managers who report to district managers who report to the head of the franchise, and the franchise head liaises with the corporate offices, still in Gary) and showing uniform standards. General policies, as well as specific position duties and store roles, followed, as did compensation and bonus programs. Those piqued Asa’s interest, and he made ample notation on his pages before filling out the assessment. That done, he tore the relevant pages out of the orientation packet and took them up to Jennifer.

She smiled as she took them. “I’m glad to see you got it done. Now, we wait for Manny.”

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