10 March, 2000 A.D.

Of the many things I wish to explain to you, there is one item that probably even verges on the essential, in terms of understanding this entire endeavor, and that is: The Hat. There are hats, of course, and there are HATS, but, after all those, there is one more. It is The Hat, and it is mine.

You may very well wonder what in the web a hat has to do with pizza delivery, but then again, I often wonder what peddling pizzas has to do with publishing periodicals, so we're on fairly equal footing, when it comes to the headgear. I will attempt to make it all at least as clear to you as it is to me. I hereby give you fair warning that this is not all always entirely clear to me, either, so let's just all hang on and see what happens. The worst thing likely is a slight bit of confusion, and the possible benefit is a certain amount of clarity, so it may be worth it, by the time we're done. At least we're likely to be a bit amused by it all, so we may as well see what happens.

You've had pizza delivered to you, and probably many times. (Oh, you haven't?! Well, why not? I really recommend that you try it. It's a very pleasant way to avoid cooking, and still provide a hot, healthy meal for yourself and your family. It's also a very pleasant way to help support your Friendly Neighborhood Pizza Guy and magazine publisher.) Many folks, of course, have, at some time in their lives, had a pizza delivered to them. Those of you who have done so will certainly recognize what I'm about to describe, and those of you who will be calling for delivery tonight will just have to imagine this, until the driver arrives at your door.

The doorbell rings, as expected, and you get up from watching the television, stare around you dazedly, as you re-orient yourself with the surroundings of your home, walk through your foyer and open the door. Standing in front of you, balancing a steaming cardboard box in his hand, is the bearer of glad tidings and great food. Well, maybe the tidings are inconsequential, (probably something along the lines of: "Twelve bucks, please,"), and maybe the food is mediocre. If that is the case, please do not blame the driver, as you certainly could have called me, and gotten the aforementioned "great food." (There's a fair chance I'll ask you for more than $12, though. Great food does cost a little more.) No matter. Besides the food and the price, what do you notice? You notice someone, usually a guy, (There are more female pizza drivers, these days, than there used to be, so don't be surprised, and please don't feel obligated to tip them more than you would a male. That just annoys the anchovies out of me!), waiting for you to take the pizza, and to put money in his or her hand.

One thing that you are also very likely to notice is the cap. This item seems to be de rigueur(French for: "Wear this, or we'll fire you.") for delivery drivers. Most often, it seems to be a baseball cap, and it almost always has the name of the store emblazoned across the front.

Of course, this is not always true. Some countries haven't discovered yet how advantageous the baseball cap is, and how naturally it lends itself to the difficult task of driving pizzas around and carrying them to the door. These countries usually end up using berets, or (in the case of Great Britain) retired WWII pilot's helmets. As helpful as these obviously are, for the U.S. to have discovered how practical and multi-talented the baseball cap is a feather in our cap. (However, a baseball cap with a feather in it looks pretty ridiculous.) No matter. When this pizza driver arrives tonight, you will most probably see a brightly-colored, store-printed cap on his or her head.

Not if you call me, though. While the usefulness and fashionability of baseball caps has already been proven, I have a couple of personal difficulties with wearing them, not the least of which is the fact that I'm not a baseball player. Even more difficult to overcome than that, however, is The Hat.

I suspect that most people don't truly appreciate the effort involved in maintaining the reputation of being the Best Pizza Driver in the World. I imagine that you think that it's pretty easy to walk into the store, find out the next address, and take the pizza to that customer. I realize that many drivers do just that, and, for them, perhaps that is an adequate approach to their careers. Whether for good or ill, however, that would not be enough for me. I'm not happy unless I make a big deal out of every delivery, and treat each customer as if he or she were my only one. It is for them (mostly) that I wear The Hat.

I'll tell you more about The Hat tomorrow.

I have another pizza to deliver.

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Come back soon for more "Slices of Life"

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© 2000 by Randy Cromwell