Pizza Pictures and Stories

So I work at a pizza place. When I started, I was really really bad at it. This picture was taken after I'd worked there for a month and a half. I've been there like 2 months now... Maybe a bit more, and guess what? I'm still not great at it. We're supposed to use these pans that are attached to long sticks to take pizzas out of the oven. It is difficult. Also, I'm not good at keeping track of a lot of pizzas at once. Also, different parts of the oven cook at different rates. It's kind of complicated, I promise... Anyway, ftr, I did end up eating this pizza.

More pictures and stuff...

My third day on the job, nine customers called and complained about burned pizza. They had the owner come and talk to me because I was doing so badly that they thought I was doing it on purpose. I was not. I was just really really bad at it. I'm really grateful, really really grateful that they did not, and have not fired me.

I like my job. I really do. I even liked today, when I had to get on a huge ladder and clean the fans after we'd closed. It was like it was snowing flour slash dust all over me. It was so thick that it was actually kind difficult to not breathe it in. Anyway, one part of my job that I really like is trying to balance pizza boxes and move them. I also like to fold pizza boxes. It's kind of this zen thing, this routine that you just do over and over, and it keeps your hands busy, but your mind kind of wanders. We have to stack them. I had a stack of 43 that I was trying to move...

Needless to say, I was not good at moving it. I spilled the boxes on Jorge, who was busy making pizzas. I am bad luck for Jorge. Later this day, he slipped on the floor that I wasn't yet done mopping and hurt his wrist. For a pizzamaker, wrists are a big deal.

Poor Jorge, on my second day of work, I was reaching into the oven to move pizzas, while he was reaching into the oven to put a pizza in there. I lifted up my paddle, which lifted his arm up into the oven. He didn't say anything about it at the time. I just asked him several days later "Geeeeze, that's a big scar, how'd you get that?" He was like "Oh, you did that to me." I felt like such a jerk. He still has a big scar on his bicep. Incidentally, karma semi came back to bite my butt, as I now have a matching scar. However, mine is fading rapidly, whereas Jorge's is not.

Here is a salad that I made. It's a caesar salad with a side of chicken and a side of avocado. I thought it was really funny that I did this, and forced the driver to wait for me to take a picture of it before I let him deliver it. He was already late, and did not think this was funny. Well, to him I have to say "Sorry, Vince." Also, I made a salad for Diane Lane the other day. My coworker was like, "That was Diane Lane." And I was like "Diane who?" I googled her though. My coworker should've said "Oh, Cherry Valance." Maaaan, I loved that movie. And Rumble Fish. And Judge Dredd... not.

Also, today someone told me that I look like Keith Haring, and I was like "Keith who?" She must've mistaken my genuine lack of artistic knowledge for offense, because she quickly said "But better looking! Better looking!" Anyway, I googled him. I'd forgotten who he was. He was this guy. While we are both skinny white guys with circular glasses and slightly higher than average hairlines, I'm going to say the resemblance ends there. Okay, maybe that is quite a resemblance though.