Poor Poor Child

 Pretty smooth shift tonight. Now that everyone knows I am writing this lovely blog, a lot of the employees at a House of a Thousand Pizzas are acting a little better. This one is about a poor poor child that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
   My Delivery Driver, X, came in and told me to void a ticket he was suppose to take. That's fine, but why? He told me that the lady answered the door, and when he said, "Here's your pizza." She said "Just a sec." She then proceeded to find her young son and ask if he ordered pizza (somewhere between 8 and 13). When he said no, the lady then beat the #$%@ out of him for 20 minutes. I know it was 20 minutes because the driver stood there in the open doorway watching this child get taught the valuable lesson of what happens when you order food without permission before the lady told him to take the pizza back.
   This in itself would be a terrific story but it I'm not done yet. It gets better.
   About 30 minutes later I answer the phone and a gentleman wants to know where his food is at. He isn't mad just curious. I look up his info and it is the same order from above. I verify that his address is correct, and he says it is except they have to come to the back door, that he lives in a duplex. I cringe and ask if his neighbors have a young troublesome son. He says that that is correct. I tell him that my driver is on the way with some fresh pizza.
I wonder if my driver apologized to the kid when he went back.