City Pages with a look into the pizza delivery world:
In the popular imagination, the pizza man is many other things. He is the punch line to loser jokes. The pimply-faced teen working his first job. The reckless driver who mows down the glaucoma-stricken nun in the crosswalk. The stoner who has lost all ambition. The hapless crime victim whose sorry demise gets 30 seconds on the 10:00 p.m. news. Sometimes, though less commonly, the pizza man is celebrated. In Neal Stephenson’s cult cyber-punk novel Snow Crash, he is the hero. The Deliverator, as he is called, works in a failing future America in which pizza delivery constitutes a last remaining arena of national competence. And, finally, there is the pizza man as sexual buccaneer–the stud who stops by for impromptu encounters in countless porn movies and Penthouse Forum letters.
As with so many stereotypes, there are nuggets of truth embedded in all of the above. Last month, City Pages sat down with six of Minneapolis’s most prolific pizza drivers to talk about their livelihood: the day-to-day realities of the work, the legendary customers, the rank indignities and, of course, drugs and sex.