BEN JOLLY writes:

I have greatly enjoyed your commentary on the plague of pizza. I have worked off and on for Papa John’s in the last four years as a side job or full-time when I have been laid off (aerospace is a rough world). I’m sure you are aware that PJ’s brands itself as a high-end product, with better quality ingredients and more consistent quality, and not surprisingly a higher price. Yet it is still pizza.

I was a delivery driver in the suburbs of Dallas, and again in a suburb of Denver, Colorado. I could probably write a small book on all the strange, interesting, disgusting, or frightening scenarios one encounters in that occupation. One’s colleagues can also fall into the four aforementioned categories. PJ’s doesn’t drug test (at least at any of the places I’ve worked for them) so you can imagine some of the individuals that work there. Here are some of my observations into the standard issue junk food, and the culinary state of our culture in general. 

Pizza delivery men are the third most likely to die in their job of violent crime, following cops and taxi drivers. The majority of our business is at night, and goes anywhere from the ‘hooker hotels’ along the highway into neighborhoods with million dollar mansions. All the companies send you out carrying $20 but after a triple with a big order you can have over $200 in your pocket. They also prohibit drivers from carrying weapons. Many of us ignored that rule, as we can look for another job if we get fired. It is hard to do that if you’re dead. I have used my pepper spray on dogs a couple times, and my 38 special has been pointed into a thug’s face. Obivously this is not a job for a lady, I was always concerned for my female colleagues, especially the young ones. There are a lot of very evil people out there, and they won’t think twice about killing a hard-working man for the $20 in his pocket and the two boxes of junk food he’s holding. Or doing things equally evil and despicable to a defenseless woman who is standing at their door alone, just there to bring them some sorry food.

Here’s another fascinating observation I made during my stints as a pizza man. I have taken to referring to Halloween as “Satan day.” In my opinion, it is essentially a celebration of evil and filth. I am not going to sugarcoat it. Guess what the official ‘meal’ of Satan day is? Yup, pizza. Halloween is the pizza equivalent of Black Friday. Halloween is burgeoning as a retail holiday, already eclisping Thanksgiving and now chasing down Christmas. People spend vast amounts of money on parties now for ‘adults’. So between all the kid parties and the so-called grownup parties, the pizza joints are raking in the cash. The American consumer is donning his immodest, vulgar, macabre, or disgusting costume, and grabbing a big ol’ slice of cardboard with some grease and sugary sauce on it. I never enjoyed working Halloween despite the money I could make.

I will eat a slice of the stuff every now and then, but when I hear a child or adult say pizza is their favorite food, I cringe. They must have never had my grandmother’s lasagna, my grandfather’s beef roast, my mother’s london broil, my neighbor’s elk steak, or my pastor’s grilled trout. Have they ever been to real restaurant? I don’t eat out very often, but when I do I prefer to visit an establishment that serves real food, and has a quiet and elegant atmosphere. In Denver I like the Briarwood, Simms Steakhouse (formerly Simms Landing), the Chart House (Genesse), and the Greenbriar Inn up in Boulder, to name a few.

Yes they cost a bit, but even when my family was of very limited means I recall being taken to these places for special occasions. I would have to wear nice clothes, and could not act like a barbarian. These are some of the most magical memories of my childhood, the wonder of being taken to a special restaurant, getting to taste a special dish from the land of my ancestors or a local delicacy. The tablecloths, the multiple forks and utensils set at my place at the table, the dignified and well-dressed waiters, everything made the atmosphere special. Even as a little boy, I instantly recognized that these were places where ladies and gentlemen who are distinguished and have class go to dine! Sometimes the food was a little strange or not to my liking but I enjoyed it nonetheless. Unbeknowst to my little barbarian self my parents were teaching me to value quality over quantity, testing the good manners they were teaching me, and turning me into an adult! I never had an experience like that eating at Cici’s or Burger King.

So many people in my generation (I am 24), particularly the men, throw a fit when told they will have to be dining at a quality establishment or attending a fancy reception or banquet. Bereft of their flip flops or skateboard shoes, dirty jeans, faded T-shirt, and their loathsome baseball cap they moan and whine about having to wear dignified clothing, eat with utensils, and have to try to act civilized. They blast the atmosphere as being stuffy, pretentious, and fake. Sadly, the young females of my generation are not much better. They don clothing and shoes better suited to a streetwalker and equally absurd makeup, if you can get them out of their way-too-short shorts and flip flops in the first place.

The Age of Pizza has helped pay my bills, but I’m ready for it to go away. Please give me real food instead.

I enjoy your cultural insights and view of what is beautiful and good. I don’t spend more than about 15 minutes a day reading news and doing my ‘blog roll’, but I make sure to read yours. I have never donated to anyone’s blog either, except for yours. Please keep up the good work.

Laura writes:

Thank you very much for writing and for your donation.

It’s encouraging that someone in the very heart of Pizza Land can maintain his sanity. God bless you. Your parents did a heck of a good job. I hope you get out of the pizza delivery business soon. Please be careful! To think that people have lost their lives for pizza. People have lost their lives delivering edible foam board. It’s too much to absorb.

Historians will look back at the Age of Pizza in astonishment and revulsion.

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