Vahn:
Methinks there is. Lu:
I'm driving through a neighborhood, delivering a pizza. I see a group of kids in the middle of the road.
So I slow down, going anywhere between 2-5 mph. The kids disperse, but I still feel a bump under my right tire. I think I hit a kid, so I jump out and I'm like "IS EVERYONE OKAY?!@?!?!?!11" and I see one of the kids shaking and pointing at my tires. I'm pretty sure I had to have run over his sister or something for him to be that upset. I look, it's his skateboard.
His parents aren't home, his brother who owns the skateboard isn't home, so I give him the papa johns number and tell him to get his parents to call when they get home.
I deliver the pizza, get back and my coworkers are all staring at me. Everyone starts cracking up. My GM Cam is like "you are the destroyer of childhood hopes and dreams." The mother called her, and was nice and everything.
My next delivery, I popped by their house and talked to the family, told them I'd replace the skateboard. Everything is kosher, I have the fathers' card, I apologize to the older brother who owns it. Kosher, kosher kosher.
Get back to the store again, Cam hands me an "auto accident claim form" which I have to fill out after my next and last delivery. She said she had to call the RS (regional supervisor), and I"m like fine, cool, I'll get this delivery and I'll brb.
I get back, the police are outside. No joke.
I walk up, and they're look at me and start cracking up. Apparently they were told there was an emergency or some such, and that this is not an emergency, they can't do anything, this is nothing. Absolutely nothing.
They drive off, I spend the next hour and a half between this claim form and talking to the family to get their info, talking to the RS, all that jazz.
I get clocked out, get drunk, and the nickname has officially stuck.