Number of Deliveries: 11
Sales: $339.71
Tips: $59
Hours: 2.75
Total Wage: $29.45 per hour
When I arrive at the first delivery of my second run, a stocky man, wearing a light-blue polo shirt and shorts, waddles out and hands me a $100 bill for his $31.86 order. I tell him I only have twenty dollars worth of change, and he says, "That's all I got." We seem to be at a standstill.
"Is it okay if I take it into town and get change?" I say. He agrees, and I dart off to nearby downtown Rancho Santa Fe with a short list in my head of possible places to get change. The local elementary school appears to be having an open house, so I must drive extra slow. Most of the little boys wear suits, while the girls wear colorful dresses; one even wears white gloves.
I've been reading Jonathan Kozol's Savage Inequalities: Children in American Schools lately, and the scene in front of me contrasts greatly with his descriptions of schools in East St. Louis and inner city Chicago (with mostly black students). Kozol writes, "For children who begin their school career at Anderson Elementary School [in Chicago] . . . the high school dropout rate is 76 percent. For those who begin at the Mckinley School, it is 81 percent. For those who start at Woodson Elementary School, the high school dropout rate is 86 percent"(58).
In the affluent north Chicago suburb of Winnetka, 98.5% of students at New Trier High School graduate, most going on to four-year colleges. Oh, and their demographics? 90% White, 8% Asian (which is over-represented in their website photo montage––multiculturalism is in!), 2% Hispanic, and >1% Native and African American. The children on the sidewalk in front of me are all white and rich. Their futures look bright.
I park on Granada, and run over to the only liquor store in Rancho to get change. And wouldn't you know it, even though it's only 6:10 p.m., it's closed. It's also closed on Sundays. One lousy, overpriced liquor store for all these residents, and it's closed. Whereas, the Chicago neighborhood [of North Lawndale], "according to the [Chicago] Tribune, 'has one bank, one supermarket, 48 state lottery agents . . . and 99 licensed bars and liquor stores'" (41). In case you're wondering, Rancho Santa Fe has at least seven banks in a four block radius.
I'm in panic mode now, because I have other deliveries and I still need to get this fool his change. Luckily, I notice my next delivery is $53.06 and they're paying with cash. The $100 bill man will just have to wait.
When I arrive at the mansion in the Bridges, a beautiful blond woman answers the door and doles out the cash. Three suit jackets hang on the formal dinning room chairs. I figure a group of business men must be unwinding this Friday night, and that's who the three large pizzas are for. But before I leave, a beautiful Latina woman and her two young boys dressed in suits arrive. This must be the post open house party. Jesus, I didn't have a suit when I was their age. As a matter of fact, even now, I only have a suit jacket and pants my dad gave me years ago. Maybe that explains why I'm on this side of the doorway.
I arrive back at the $100 bill man's house with change, and he waddles out of his garage, past the Porshe Carrera, the Mercedes SL63, the Cadillac Escalade, and the super-custom Silverado truck. I hand him his change, and he gives me an $8 tip and apologizes for his large bill. "It's cool, man," I say.
Later in the night, a hippy-like, teacher woman answers a condo door, and her husband asks me if I'm in junior high school, then laughs. "She's doing research on junior high kids and she needs some subjects," he explains.
The woman looks at the credit card slip, and sees the total is $33.31. "You know, the last time I ordered this same thing, it was only twenty-seven dollars. It gets more and more expensive every time. This is the last time I'm ordering from THE Pizzeria." I feel like it's somehow my fault, and she's going to take it out on my tip. She ends up tipping me $4, and as I leave, she says, "I'll put that down for research." In other words, she's going to lie.
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