ROE INTENSE

The most thrilling part about working as a pizza delivery driver – aside from getting cold, hard cash in your hand at the end of every day – is getting to know so many different people. I refer to them by what they are to protect their identities. Each individual has a rich personality, not to mention a good sense of humor. I am sure one could not find this level of character and diversity in most white-collar jobs. Take Shiftmanager #1 from last night. She is latinoamericana. Husband and kids. Zacatecas native. She was surprised to learn I speak Spanish, so we joke around de vez en cuando. I was cashing out at a computer when she plopped an open box of food on the counter. What follows happened in Spanish in its entirety. “Tony, do you like this stuff?” “Of course I do.” “Want one?” “No thanks.” “Why not? Too spicy?” These were the peppered variety of the food. “I love spicy foods, but I just had a pizza.” I finished counting and switched places with her so she could c

Today marked the first full week of part-time work delivering pizzas. What a wild ride. I’m tired. I keep busy. Anticipation is key. There is always something to do. I buzz around. The up front area has a plethora of cleaning or preparation tasks, from folding boxes to retrieving ingredients. Nothing to do up front? I go straight to dishes. I check bins next to the prep table. I get the chunkies out of the pans. “RI, we’ve got a Spanish caller! Come take this order, please,” comes the voice from the order desk on occasion. This morning the shift manager asked me to help box 30 pizzas for a single rush order. I’m terrible at helping box pizzas. I did my best, but she boxed and boxed while I resigned myself to stacking the pizzas in large carrying cases. Can’t win them all right away. I’ll get it. That particular order was big, though. It resulted in a record tip: $50. That felt great. It also served a valuable purpose at the end of the day. 4:25 drew nigh. The keyboard click

My last delivery of the night – last night being the busiest yet with somewhere around 13 deliveries - was to the Century Link Hilton. I parked behind a pickup truck. It was parked behind a pickup truck. That one was parked behind a Prius. And the Prius, a pickup truck. Odd, right? Pickups everywhere. And a Democrat in there for kicks. Receipt for the pizza said to call when I got there. So I did. Three times. No answer. I got out and asked a bellhop if my parking was acceptable for the delivery of a delicious pizza pie. It was not. I was to park alongside the shuttles. So I did. Cost me thirty feet. No big deal. I got out and ran to the doors, stopping by a nice security guard on the way in who pointed me to the elevators. I passed through the automatic sliding glass doors on the North side of the building. It was loud. There was a par-tay going on of epic rodeo proportions. There were cowboy hats, belt buckles, boots, beer and big hair coming out of everywhere. They walked an

The environment inside of a quality pizza restaurant is a dynamic, growing thing made up of grease, delicious smells, terrible things hidden under sundry cooking equipment, profanity, laughter, and most of all, a hum of business and quality control. "If we have time to jabber, we have time to get other stuff done. Are we done with our prep?" the manager on staff  asked last night as a coworker and I laughed about some statement or another about the dynamics of delivery work. "I was just describing prep, and the team and how everything works with the new guy," was Coworkerpant's jovial answer. "Well, why don't you show the New Guy how to do prep?" the manager asked. We headed into the profundity of the prep area. Another coworker was singing along to a Bush song as he told a story to no one in particular about some event from days passed, his nametag bouncing on his cap with every accentuated hand gesture. A flood of information awaited me

  The door sang the long, wailing chime of customer entry and the interior door clicked. I stepped into the depths of the pizza restaurant on my second day. It was also my first full day of delivering. "Hi RI! What are you doing here?" the shift manager asked. "Hey there, Shiftmanager!" I answered. "I was scheduled to work tonight.” "Oh really?" he asked, moving up to the check-in desk. He grabbed a clipboard that I assumed housed the schedule and flipped a few pages. "Hmm, maybe Shiftmanager #2 didn't know about you yet, or... that is awesome... that is so awesome," he said. His face and demeanor was stoic. He kept saying awesome. I thought it was odd. "Yep! Monday, Tuesday, Friday and Saturday," I said. I rocked back on my heels a few times. The shift manager kept staring at the schedule. "Did they call you in?" He pressed. He stuck to the I’m-not-sure-if-you-should-be-here idea.  "Uh, nope! That was

Welcome to my new blog, Roe Intense.   Our trip down the   Total Money Makeover   path took a turn for the serious in January.   It didn't START then. Nope. We'd made a goal over a year ago to be debt-free by 30. We also made a goal to have a house with chickens by 35.   Before January, we knew the Makeover was a good idea. After January, we wrote it on the fleshy tables of our hearts and started running. Before January, we were trying to increase our income, to be sure. But the intensity wasn't there!   The #1 reason why we got into gear in January was because we became a whole new level of SICK of being in debt. The #2 reason hands-down was  the radio program . Thanks to those two things, we truly tasted "Gazelle Intensity." To quote   daveramsey.com :   So what exactly is gazelle intensity?   Dave coined the term after reading Proverbs 6:4–5, which says, “Give no sleep to your eyes, nor slumber to your eyelids.  Deliver you