"Delivery Dilemma"

Jordan said yes, but God said no.

I opened and closed the refrigerator door about six times, somehow expecting my view to change.

I opened and closed it six times just to finally come to the realization that I wasn't looking at food, but instead, a bunch of ingredients.

I was hungry now! And I didn't have the patience to let anything thaw out and be put on a five-minute simmer plan just to have to let the shit precook for another ten minutes and then really cook for twenty!

Oh no, not me! I didn't have time for that! I needed something quick...easy. But what? Pasta, maybe? Chicken, possibly? Oh, I know!

Pizza Night!

(Two birds, one stone. and they had a promotional code! Let's order this thang!).

Now I'm not going to waste too much of your time with this story, but I will, however, make sure not to leave out any major details.

You see, this story here is special. It's not only the first story being presented to you, but it's also the first awkward encounter I've had next to a long line of other awkward encounters, and the story that just so happened to spark the idea for me to create this site!

So, with that being said, let's get back to it.

Two Hours Later...

(I knew that promo code had a catch)

The delivery man calls me with the most unbothered tone I've ever heard and says, "Yo! I'm outside" and immediately hangs up the phone before I can announce that I'm on my way.

As I walked down the stairs of my apartment, I could quickly hear the sounds of the "Migos" blasting through the windows of a red Pontiac Grand Prix that was parked directly in the middle of the parking lot.

Standing in the doorway, I began to scale up and down the lot trying to find the driver who so rudely announced he was outside, and after what seemed to be damn near twenty minutes, a man carrying four large boxes exited from the red Pontiac where Quavo proceeded to tell us that he was "in the kitchen, wrist-twistin' like it's stir fry". (Lawd! It would be him, huh? Of course the man blasting his trap tunes and illegally parked was my delivery driver).

Still trying to figure out why he sat in his car for so long, (I mean, did he think I was going to walk over to him?!), I braced myself as he slowly approached my door.

As I reached out to grab ahold of all four boxes, I decided to still tip and handed the delivery man a five-dollar bill. (Honestly, my order should've been free. It was two hours late!).

Now instead of him grabbing the money right away, the delivery man decided to hand me a stack of receipts, my entire four box order, and an oversized Pizza Bogo pen, which I found to be quite strange seeing as I ordered Marco's.

Clearly unfazed by my current situation, the delivery man instructs me to "sign the top copy", and that's when I noticed that his name was Jordan.

So here I am, trying to sign a receipt longer than the ones they give you at your local CVS with a jumbo-sized Pizza Bogo pen that doesn't even work while juggling all five of my food items! At this point, I was annoyed.

I watched Jordan watch me struggle and was completely fed up when he sighed as if I was holding him up from a "You up?" text. (The audacity!)

I handed Jordan the top receipt with my faded ass signature along with the five-dollar bill and headed back upstairs towards my apartment, almost dropping my ten-piece wings!

One inch away from my door, Jordan yells from the bottom of the staircase, "Aye! Didn't you give me five dollars?".

I was completely disgusted. Don't "aye" me! I wasn't this man's homie! I don't live with his mama on Rosecrans asking fools where their granny's stay! Again, (the audacity!)

And with the strongest of attitudes, I replied "Yes!" and continued to my apartment door.

As I turned the knob, I couldn't help but to watch Jordan pat down the pockets of his khaki cargo pants and turn the pockets of that God forsaken olive green jacket he had on, inside out.

Realizing this wasn't my problem, and assuming he would find the five-dollar bill eventually, I walked inside my apartment, locked the door, and sat my food on the kitchen table.

In way too much of a hurry, I washed my hands and almost tripped trying to reach for a plate, (your girl was starving, okay!). Heading back towards the kitchen table, something catches my eye.

It's the five-dollar bill!

Wedged between my cheesy bread and ten-piece wings lied my five-dollar bill and Jordan's 'NOT' tip.

After sitting on the idea of maybe heading back downstairs to give it to him, (I could still hear Jordan's music from my window. Was he still looking?!), I thought it over and came to the conclusion that he didn't deserve my five-dollar bill, (God said no), so, I put the money back into my wallet and continued to make my plate. Besides, I had laundry to do!