The recent creation of a blog devoted exclusively to judging the tips we give delivery men has left the lazy and obese everywhere re-considering their relationship with the men (and the 5 delivery women in America) who enable our lethargy. This shattering of the fourth wall between delivery man and famished orderer begs the question, what else are the men who are transporting my Sunday morning hangover cure directly to my door judging me for? Below are the top ten questions I’d like to ask Lenny when he arrives with a piping hot burrito that I couldn’t walk the five blocks to get for myself.
- Will you judge me for getting one dish and barely reaching the $10.00 delivery minimum? Will you judge me for getting three main dishes when you can clearly peek through my door and see I’m alone and intend to binge eat the milkshake and fries until I can’t move?
- Will you judge me for ordering from the same restaurant three nights in a row? Will you judge me for ordering the same item(s) from the same restaurant three nights in a row?
- Will you judge me for ordering delivery at midnight on a Saturday night?
- Will you judge me for how quickly I buzz you in and then again when I am already waiting with the door open and ravenously staring at the brown package in your hand?
- Will you judge me for answering the door with eyeliner smeared down my cheek and my T-shirt on inside out? Will you judge me more or less when I order 5 meat lovers pizzas then come to the door with bloodshot eyes and a wave of smoke whooshing out from behind me?
- Will you judge me for ordering delivery from your establishment which is in the same block as my building? Will you judge me for “testing the waters” and ordering from your restaurant even though I am one block out of the delivery zone (or, gasp, live in Stuyvesant Town)?
- Will you judge me for the boxes/trash/clothes/books/unrecognizable items that I have to climb over to even squeeze the door open a crack? Will you judge me for living in a tenth floor walk up and think to yourself “even I wouldn’t live here”?
- Will you judge me for not having a pen to sign the check in my entire apartment? Will you judge me even more when I offer to sign the check in curry sauce from the entrée you are currently delivering to me?
- Will you judge me for buying 5 bottles of water in order to perfectly reach the $20 allotment I receive on my corporate delivery account with seamlessweb?
- Will you judge me for writing in the comments section? I swear, I really do have gluten, nut, dairy, AND shellfish allergies.
But, really, Lenny, please don’t answer any of these questions. Let’s forget about the time I had to pay your tip in pennies because I’d lost my debit card the night before or the time I ordered delivery three times in 24 hours. Let’s go back to the good old days when you smiled politely, accepted my tip, and moved along to the next door.