My name is Chris. This happened years ago, and it's something I actually forgot about until recently.

I was 17 that summer, working nights at a pizza place on the outskirts of my childhood

hometown.

I wasn't thrilled with it, but with no money and two parents who would have killed me for being

unemployed, I couldn't complain.

It was one of those jobs you take because nothing else is hiring.

Slow shifts, sticky uniforms, and a beat-up delivery car that barely made it up hills.

At least I didn't have to drive my own car. That would have sucked.

Oh yeah, not that this is super relevant, but I do want to mention that the pizza was god-awful, like genuinely terrible.

I couldn't understand. Actually, I still don't understand why anyone in their

right mind would order from that spot. If not for the technology and relatively nice atmosphere

it provided, I honest to God don't think we ever would have gotten a single order. That place

is definitely the thing I missed the least about my childhood hometown. And that's saying something.

The one saving grace about working there was that because the pizza was so bad,

or because the place itself was so far away from our downtown,

or maybe a combination of the two, people rarely ordered from us,

so most nights were dead quiet.

I'm not going to bore you with the mundane details about how my nights typically unfolded.

It was a pizza place. I'm sure you could fill in the blanks yourself.

One night, I was restocking the fridge with drinks when the tablet buzzed with an online order.

Large sausage and olive pizza.

I remember that distinctly because we never got olives.

...