Pete’s exhausted. He’s coming up to the end of his shift, and the it’s been at least three deliveries since the last time he was paid by a sober person. It takes a certain kind of person to order three pizzas after midnight, and it isn’t a kind which normally tips well.
He knocks on the motel door, swearing that tomorrow he’ll trade the next graveyard shift off to Ken. The door is opened by some guy in an honest to God suit and tie, who makes no move to take the pizzas.
“Delivery for Mr. Page?” Pete asks. The guy continues to stare at him with wide blue eyes, and Pete revises his account of the evening: three drunk guys, and a stoner. He is so trading shifts.
“Are you familiar with any babysitters?” the stoner asks, tilting his head slightly. Before Pete has a chance to respond, a second guy appears, smile a bit too forced as he pulls his companion away from the door.
“Thanks for these.” He snatches the pizzas and shoves some money into Pete’s hand before practically slamming the door in his face. As the door closes, he hears a voice begin to say “Cas, you can’t -“
Midnight shifts. Pete thinks, shaking his head as he walks away.
Pete looks down at the notes in his hand. Then he looks again. He counts the notes out with his fingers, double checking, triple checking. Then he gets on his bike and gets out of there fast before the stoners can realise their mistake.
For a $50 tip, maybe he’ll stick to the graveyard shift after all.
Prompt: "Overtip the pizza delivery guy." - Daily Advice Calendar, July 13th 2012.