Snatch

People never seem to want to point out the positive side of being handicapped. I know that may seem counter-intuitive, but there is a bright side to certain afflictions. Take being deaf for example; these impaired individuals have crafted a whole culture and community around their disadvantaged state. I'm not overstating this either. My boss's wife teaches American Sign Language, and according to the numerous friends and acquaintances that she's made in the deaf community over the years, they don't see their inability to hear as being a disorder. They see it as merely being different. That's a hell-of-a-way to look at what many perceive to be an unfortunate set of circumstances. 

I can somewhat see what the deaf community means. It does seem advantageous in certain scenarios. I just never fully grasped that ordering pizza would be one of those many scenarios. You see, one day, our store received an internet order from a random woman that lived in a fairly rundown apartment complex. (If you haven't picked up on the nuances of the life of a delivery driver by now, you never will. This is sort of the story of our lives. We risk taking food to customers that may or may not be armed and dangerous, live off of EBT and spend their welfare checks on food that will cause gout and lead to type III diabetes. I don't know how scientifically accurate I'm being, but I'm pretty sure that after you've consumed a grain silo worth of pizza dough you'll simply generate a third form of diabetes. I'm pretty sure it's the kind where your pancreas simply packs up it's bags, grabs the appendix and fires out your ass in one last attempt at freedom.)

Anyway, an internet order was placed, a pizza was sent out to a random apartment dwelling dame, and the woman successfully received it. She was actually waiting outside to pay, said thank you and then headed back inside. And as with most successful orders, the driver wandered back to his car and counted the money he was given. That's when it dawned on him that he was a few dollars short. Usually this isn't a big deal. Sometimes customers miscount. It happens. Every third time I deposit cash at the bank I come up short or heavy. It just comes with the coke stained, tag covered cash territory. It's tremendously easy to get distracted and miss a bill or two when you're dealing with fully ripped and twice taped two dollar bills that were picked up by copper stealing tweakers at the local recycling plant. Then there seems to be an assortment of meth addicts that use their collection of magic markers to simply deface every last one of their dollars. When you think about, it's kind of scary that every third bill has been partially tagged and fully molested. Who really are these abusers of bills? Who honestly sits down and gang tags singles? I mean, have gang-bangers really used up all the available canvas out there? Is the only option left to start etching an iron cross into Mr. Washington's wig while painting a set of SS bolts on Lincoln's brow? The side of shipping trucks, trains and bridge overpasses not an enticing enough canvas for their criminal activities anymore? Seriously, knock it the fuck off. It's called a $20 dollar community college art class or a Highlights Magazine. Try it some time.

Also, if you're wondering why drivers generally don't count their money before the customer leaves, it's because it's rude. Assuming people are honest is the best way to land a large tip. Meanwhile, betting that you're getting shortchanged and nonchalantly flipping through those singles is a guaranteed way to get a complaint and a big fat stiff. Plus, we know where you live. If you short change us, we can simply call you and/or walk back up to your door and ask for the rest of our money. And that's exactly what our driver did. He calmly walked back up to the apartment door, knocked and never received a response. He even increased the violence of the pounding until he realized he wasn't going to get an answer. The driver then went over to look in the window to see if maybe he could flag the lady down. To his surprise, he could see the woman. She was standing about ten paces away from the door triumphantly eating a slice of pizza. The driver began frantically waving to try to catch the woman's attention. Shortly thereafter he began pounding on the glass. Still, nary a response. You can imagine what was running through our driver's mind at the time. He had to have thought that he was clearly being ignored and shortchanged by a middle-aged lady that was victoriously consuming her stolen prize right in front of his under-paid eyes. At this point, our driver did the only thing left at his disposal. He called the customer. The phone rang once then cut straight to a voicemail that said in a professional tone, "The person you are calling is hearing impaired. Please don't leave a message. They will not get back to you." It wasn't a joke either. It was an automated messaging system designed for the deaf. The "will not call you back" part seemed to be a personal touch, though.

Thus ends our story about how deaf people can get away with shit that the audibly-able never could. Partially paying people is just one of the perks, though. I mean, how awesome would it be to be able to ignore loved ones, join a bowling league for the deaf, never having to talk on the phone and being fortunate enough to have full-blown universities and schools operate solely for the benefit of you and your damaged kin. It seems like the unimpaired majority of the population are the ones that are really getting gamed here. I'm guessing we can't focus on improving ourselves as much because there are roughly 200 million so-called "healthy" humans in the US. That's far too many fuck-ups to try and zero in on. Meanwhile, there are only a million deaf people; making it a much easier problem to tackle from a scale standpoint. Just think about all the revenue that could be generated if the entire 1,000,000 person population decided to Jew drivers out of three dollars like this one did. That's about two million free slices of pizza in addition to three million dollars in pity money we'll never see again. These deaf fast food fans are like some sort of obese group of Robin Hoods that steal from the poor and give to themselves but can't enjoy the dulcet tones of Ke$ha or the lyrical brilliance of 'I Luv Dem Strippers' by 2 Chainz.