What’s that address?

We realize we’ve driven past the customers’ house (again) and pull in a driveway to turn around—he says he drives past houses and has to turn around at least 60 percent of the time.

When we get back to the store, Dan has two more deliveries for Jamie. We drive to Franklin Street and pass the house (again).

“I don’t know about that 60 percent. We’re at 100 percent right now,” Jamie says.

Jamie Ward tries to maintain composure while taking a phone order. Ward is in the midst of one of the busiest nights Guys Pizza has seen. {larger}

You don’t realize how tough it is to find house addresses until you drive up the road in the dark.

Jamie runs the pizza up to the door and an older, bearded man lets him in. Jamie comes back with a fistful of dollars in change.

“Sometimes I mess up the change,” he says. “One time I gave 15 bucks wrong change. They called. It was a bunch of guys, so I was surprised. That would have gotten taken out of what I make during that night.”

On the way back to headquarters, Jamie explains why people, in his mind, order Guyros.

At Europe Gyro, you can buy a gyro for $3 or you can go to Guys and get one for $5.

“But,” he says, “it’s a little better. Not like students care.”

We drive around the block three times waiting for an open parking spot. Jamie walks in and looks at the TV over the door.

“Agh! We missed TV-2 and Peter Jennings.”

Jamie is a senior broadcast major and works for TV-2. He changes the channel to MSNBC’s “Hardball.”

Dan is wearing latex gloves and making a salad on the toppings buffet. He tosses the lettuce into a clear plastic container and carries it over to a table by the front counter. He grabs a bottle of white powder and sprinkles it over the salad. He walks back to the cabinet and throws away the lettuce.

“Was that garlic powder?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

He starts over, making sure, this time, to use parmesan cheese. On top of that, he puts tomato slices and a handful of croutons.

“We actually need a few girls. We get sick of looking at guys all the time.”

A few minutes later a man walks in.

“Can I get a couple of pepperoni slices?” he asks.

He gets his pizza and walks out with a smile, perhaps laughing at me scribbling fiendishly in a notebook.

“We’ve never been even remotely this busy,” Jamie says.

The phone rings as Jamie finishes his thought. “Unbelievable!” he says.

This caller wants to know what soda is available.

Delivery guy Joe Gurwin calls in at 7:20 p.m., saying he’ll be late for his 7:00 shift because he got a ticket.

Two more deliveries. We pull into the wrong street (again) at Indian Valley Apartments then get lucky and park in a spot in front of the correct address.

“The light’s on. Another veteran pizza orderer,” Jamie says.

Now we head to a house on Rellim Drive.

“I actually know where this is. Not the exact house, though.”

By this time, Elton John has given way to National Public Radio and then to Delilah’s love tunes. Natalie Cole’s “Unforgettable” soothes as we search for the house.

Pizza sold by the slice stays warm under heating lamps. {larger}

Driving back to the store, Jamie says it’s been a good night so far.

“I’ve already equaled my delivery high, and it’s only eight o’clock.”

When we walk in the door, Dan says Joe has arrived, and he’s making a delivery by Dix Stadium.

Following behind us, a college-aged girl asks Dan for two slices of cheese pizza and stacks up two dollars in coins on the counter. He gives her the two pieces and one of the dollars back—the pizza is a little old, he says.

It has been more than three hours as I cap my pen and shove my notebook into my back pocket.

Jamie heads to the door with another order—he still has six hours of pizza to deliver.

“This one’s going to TV-2, so I know where that is,” he says triumphantly.

I was so inspired by the experience that I asked about a job.

“We’ve got some applications people have turned in,” Dan says. “We actually need a few girls. We get sick of looking at guys all the time.”

Matthew Forte (mtforte@kent.edu)

*TheEnd ›› 1,2...