I drove for Domino’s when that policy was still in place. Here’s why that policy was such a problem.

As a pizza driver, you were supposed to come in, look at the runs that were ready to go, and take the oldest one (maybe two, very occasionally three). The drivers decided which runs to take. So if you saw a run that you knew was going to be late, you just didn’t take it, and left it for the next schmuck.

But why would you do that? What did it matter to the driver whether the corporate policy was “30 minutes or it’s free”? Because if it was late, the driver had to pay for it. (And of course, no tip.)

I never had a late run, but I drove very dangerously sometimes to ensure that never happened.

by using a paper map like some sort of mystical land pirate

Oof, I remember going to people’s homes to install phone and Internet links using paper maps because we didn’t have maps on our phones back then and the GPS were mostly shit and out of date.
Some of the smaller villages were barely there on the regional maps, aside from maybe a dot near a main road with none of their actual streets.
For these, we’d call or stop by city hall, sometimes they’d have a shitty map or just directions.

I’m getting old…

And often ran red lights, had very small delivery areas, and people literally died for their pizza.

30 minutes or it’s free was short lived.

It wasn’t even that long ago, I delivered for Papa John’s in the late 00s. Some of the guys had tomtoms, but they were always out of date, and would lead you astray more often than not.

We mostly just used a giant laminated map of our delivery area that was attached to the heat shield of the pizza oven. You’d be surprised how quickly you can memorize the layout of a small city when your pay is dependent on it.

I haven’t been back to that town since college like 20 years ago, but if you gave me an address there, I could still prob pin point it on a blank map.

Buddy of mine went on a dominoes kick a while back. They have an automated system that lets you get 60pts if the delivery was slow. He would spend 20 for bread bites and put no tip and “contactless-knock loudly” in the instructions(if they were on time and knocked, he would give them the 20 he kept next to the door…ONE driver earned the 20…that was it). They took forever and he didn’t care, then he would collect his 60pts. He had 600+pts banked at one point because he couldn’t spend them fast enough. Every Saturday we all got together to catch up and hang and he would have pizzas delivered for free, well the $3 delivery fee. LOL

Those morons never figured it out. He still does it sometimes, but not as religiously.

Edit: plenty of confusion in comments.

-Dominoes gives you 10pts per order. You can spend 20, 40, or 60 on ‘free stuff’. 20 is little stuff like bread bites and 60 is pizza. -If the delivery is slow, you get an automated email letting you get 60pts right away. -He did not “pre-tip” on paying for the order (which I agree with…tips are extra for good service and they haven’t provided a service yet). He did leave a note to knock. -The drivers saw no pre-tip and as revenge they delivered slow and refused to knock. (Behavior that shouldn’t be rewarded with tips) If they did still deliver on time AND follow instructions (ie. the bare fucking minimum) they would get a very high% tip.

As I understand it, he got a normal order twice to get 20pts. Used that on the bread bites for free during the week when he wanted a snack. When the drivers slowed his order because they didn’t get pre-tipped he got 60pts from the automated system. Three more days that week he would get bread bites (he works from home) and each one would be slow and get him 60pts each from the automated system. So, for the cost of 2 normal orders and delivery fee of 4 bread bites he would have 180pts at the end of the week. 60 is a free pizza or larger item.

The drivers that didn’t get tipped did it to themselves (be on time and knock get over-tipped) and they also cost the restaurant money (dominoes stupid system also be at fault there too).

Hope that cleared it up. (This is second hand, so I think I have the order of events right)

The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallowed subcategory. He’s got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books.

When they gave him the job, they gave him a gun. The Deliverator never deals in cash, but someone might come after him anyway—might want his car, or his cargo. The gun is tiny, aero-styled, lightweight, the kind of a gun a fashion designer would carry; it fires teensy darts that fly at five times the velocity of an SR-71 spy plane, and when you get done using it, you have to plug it into the cigarette lighter, because it runs on electricity.

The Deliverator never pulled that gun in anger, or in fear. He pulled it once in Gila Highlands. Some punks in Gila Highlands, a fancy Burbclave, wanted themselves a delivery, and they didn’t want to pay for it. Thought they would impress the Deliverator with a baseball bat. The Deliverator took out his gun, centered its laser doo-hickey on that poised Louisville Slugger, fired it. The recoil was immense, as though the weapon had blown up in his hand. The middle third of the baseball bat turned into a column of burning sawdust accelerating in all directions like a bursting star. Punk ended up holding this bat handle with milky smoke pouring out the end. Stupid look on his face. Didn’t get nothing but trouble from the Deliverator.

I was a delivery driver in highschool. Good ol’ Thomas guide. When the internet goes down I’d love to see anyone born after 2000 get around.

Oh man. I was stoned for like three years straight delivering pizza. Quit using a map after just s couple of months. Had it all memorized.

It was fun for a while.

'97 ranger with an I4, drive a '98 with a V6 these days. Put a system better than I wanted back then in my current Ranger.

Everybody was real fucking high including the manger. Smoking in the walkin, smoke in the office after close. Smoke a cigarette anywhere after close. A pack of Luckies and a pack of Newports in the truck.

Drugs, girls, crazy shit. Pulled a knife once cause I was too young to carry a gun. Got laid a few times cause I was the pizza guy, stereotypes are a thing, and it was convenient. Still have my leather jacket all these years later.

I drove across the country, from Detroit to LA and all I had was a piece of paper with a list of the roads I needed to take. If I lost that paper the plan was to follow the setting sun. I could also drive the opposite direction of a rising sun but sometimes it was hard to tell which way the sun was going.

There was a time when taxi drivers knew all the streets of their city by heart.

And I’m not talking about silly US style names like 1st street and 2nd avenue here.

They generally asked for your cross streets, then looked at the giant street map on the wall to figure out where you were. Not exactly an unsolvable problem.

Edit: and it’s not like they needed turn by turn directions. Just figure out where to go from the cross streets. Oh it’s northwest of Maple and Cyan, 3 streets into the neighborhood. The drivers can get to the crossroads on their own, that’s just local knowledge.

Didn’t they end the 30 minutes or it’s free promotion because it encouraged their delivery drivers to speed?

i mean maybe the new drivers used maps, but even in the days of GPS I didn’t use any kind of map after the first 6 or so months of delivering, faster to not look it up when the address already tells you everything you need to know when you know the area.

Map reading is a useful skill. It’s not that hard.

Or get lost and take 2 hours to deliver a pizza. I’m old I remember the primitive times.