15 Delivery Drivers Share the Days That Are Burned in Their Brains

Delivery drivers are busier than ever these days – between groceries, food, essentials, clothes, and everything else we can buy online and have ferried directly to our doors, there are plenty of jobs to be had.

There are downsides to everything, though, and everyone has rough days at work – and once you read these 15 stories, you’ll know why these drivers will never forget these moments on the job.

15. Puppies!

One time someone’s puppy had gotten out and was running around the yard, and I helped them catch it before handing over their food.

14. These are amazing stories.

Not me but my dad was a fed ex delivery driver. One place he was knocking at the door waiting for an answer and then begins hearing heavy breathing behind him. Slowly he turns around to see a fucking ostrich staring at him.

Second one, he made a delivery to this mans country farmhouse. As you walk to the house you can clearly see into the barn. As he was approaching he saw bodies hanging from the scaffolds.

Turns out the guy was big into doing special effects for movies and helped with silence of the lambs.

13. Burned on his brain.

I delivered to a guy once at a call center who was wearing extra large sweatpants and you could clearly see what looked to be some sort of massive tumor between his legs pressed up against his pants.

It was huge, like almost beach ball huge and lumpy and I don’t think I’ll ever get that image out of my head.

12. What was he supposed to say?

I deliver pizza.

I walked up to a trailer park house and knocked, dude answers the door wearing a swastika armband and he’s bald, I tell him the total and he invites me inside while he gets the money there’s 10 more dudes all bald all wearing arm bands, sitting in a circle in metal chairs guy gives me the money, I go to leave, he grabs my arm and gets in my face and asks “do you like n****rs?” I don’t want to be murdered so I respond “nope not at all hate those fuckers” and leave as quick as possible.

The scary part is every other delivery driver but me that night was black and they might have never been seen again if I didn’t take the delivery.

11. So many memories.

Made a delivery on the 2nd of January. The guy opening the door was clearly drunk. Also he was wearing a bathrobe and nothing underneath, sausage and two veg clearly on display. Let me into the house, so I could get in the basement. Went past his living room, where a bunch of people with not enough clothes to go around were merrily drinking. He was a regular customer, so he called me up a few days later to apologize.

Got yelled at by a (metric) sh%tton of people… for blocking the street or driving to slowly. I an residential area, driving a 32ton truck…

Delivered wood pellets for heating to home a couple of months ago. Was a nice new home somewhere in the suburbs. Pellet deliveries take a while, so usually the people who live there start chatting to me. So I was chatting with the lady of the house and complimented her on nice new home (I almost always do this.

People shell out insane amounts of money for their house, I might as well confirm their decision. Especially because I´d like to deliver again the next time they need wood pellets). The woman started crying, because she didn’t know anybody around, her friends lived miles away and her husband was at work all the time.

Or the other time, when a father and his kid climbed in my truck. Mind you, if they had asked, I would have allowed it anyway. I sometimes even took dads and their kids for a ride around the block, if I had the time. But just getting in an playing with all those funky buttons, while I am at the ass end of the truck, trying to get the wood pellets to flow into their storage container and wondering why my remote didn’t work… Not good. Never delivered that guy again…

10. Talk about high maintenance.

I occasionally pick up delivery routes at the supermarket I work at part time, and the range of customers is crazy. The city has two universities (loads of students), and a butt-load of elderly and highly self-entitled (not mutually-exclusive) customers.

The system we use for deliveries/sat-nav. shows us “Customer Comments” right before each delivery, usually consisting of instructions like “There is a lift to the right as you enter”. Additionally, we are a fairly small branch, and so the comparatively smaller line we stock is made known to customers when ordering. If you don’t want items to be substituted if unavailable, you mark it as so when ordering (not a hidden button).

The other week, this lady had put a note to give her a call 45 minutes before I arrived… as if she was the only customer to whom I was delivering. The note went on to tell me “not to even bother bringing any substitutions as she does not want them”. I immediately knew this was going to be an issue, as I could see there was about 6/7 crates for this customer.

I was only a 10-minute drive away, so called and apologized that I couldn’t do so sooner. She said it was fine, and that she would be waiting outside to meet me, describing how I could identify her upon my arrival as “the two unmistakeable ladies”. It turned out to be a mother and daughter, and the order was a food shop for the daughter at uni. which the mother had placed. Without any cue, the daughter began going through the crates removing items saying “not this, not this, that isn’t organic, this is cruel, that has oil in it, definitely not that… omg why did you order those?!” like an ungrateful little something. She also berated her mother for not ordering certain things, and got stroppy when she didn’t find certain other items right away. The mother said “oh I’m sure the man will be able to get you this” as if I had the entire stock of the shop in the back of my van. When I explained I couldn’t do this, she began pointing at other crates saying “but you have this there?!” (a different customer’s order).

The mother begins to tell me how she’s never shopped online before, and her daughter has a very strict, doctor-ordered diet; whether she did or didn’t isn’t really my concern, but it certainly came across as the daughter having other reasons. Again, it’s not my concern, but she shouldn’t have gotten her mother to order, and perhaps should have shopped from somewhere which catered to her needs more. When I also explained that I can’t just give her other items from the van, she said “but every other time I’ve ordered they’ve done so-and-so?!” – first order, sure…

Now the real part that pissed me off is how the daughter had pulled things from the crates; on my system, I have to find each item individually from each crate number, and then manually remove them. Which means I have to know which crate they were in originally, since usually it’s only one or two items that get sent back. A lot of the items were fresh as well (from the meat/fish-counters) meaning they had to be binned.

Anyway, they got impatient, angry, and unreasonable, and I was late to all the remainder of my drops. That’s only one of many stories…

9. Canadian money.

Domino’s driver here.

At a store I used to work for, had these regulars in a rich subdivision that would order once every couple of weeks, always drunk ad hell and barely dressed (he would answer in shorts, she would be peaking out behind the door in some form of lingerie nighty). Always later in the evening, great tippers. One night she comes out completely naked, talking about how they used to do this all the time back in Georgia (Florida here). Took a picture with her, got my tip and a great memory, and left. If she remembered it at all, she never mentioned it the next time I saw her.

once delivered to an Indian guy in a hotel. Paid with a credit card, but tipped in cash. More specifically, a Canadian $5 bill. Happened a few years ago, still have the bill. Where am I going to spend a Canadian fiver?
watched a guy get pulled over. We were sitting at a light, he in the left lane, I in the right.

Light turns green, and we go. I get up to a comfy 50 mph, speed limit was 45. Didn’t realize the cop was behind me until just before the other guy got fed up and gunned it to get in front of me. Laughed all the way to my delivery.

8. I don’t see how you could.

Used to work for a pizza chain. I was mugged and shot. Partial paralysis in my left leg. Never gonna forget that.

7. Always say yes to Waffle House.

I worked and still do occasionally uber. I like to work late nights, the party crowd but I also have a habit of not stopping until 7 or 8 am which means I get a lot of working girls between the hours of 3 and 5 AM.

I liked driving working girls cause they were very polite, they always tipped and quickly I started to develop a trust with a few of them. Of course what the are doing is illegal, and personally I have no moral obligations to their chosen profession. This one particular girl over the course of 3-4 rides with me over the course of about 6 weeks got to know me.

So one night I picked her up and she said “Cohen tonight different, my John is giving me a bad vibe I want you to drop me off in front of the room and wait 10 minutes and I’ll tip you $10. If I come out within 10 minutes as soon as I get in the car just go somewhere”

I said fine, I did as she told me to do. She went in, I set a timer for 12 minutes (I was going be nice and give her an extra 2 minutes) not 5 minutes later she came into my car and said “Yea no way that guy fucking creeps me out”

So we take off

And I’m like where do you wanna go? Keep in mind its like 5 AM. She said “Let me treat you to some waffle house” I was hungry so I agreed.

So we went to a waffle house. She bought me my breakfast and we chatted for a good while. I learned a lot about her. Came from an abusive home, ended up with a decent job but didn’t mind fucking guys for money and it paid better then her regular job. Has dreams of opening up a beauty salon etc.

Cool girl, interesting times. After we finished breakfast I ended up taking her home at no charge.

And before anyone says anything, no s^x was involved.

6. How to get blacklisted.

I delivered pizzas in my late teens to early twenties. I have many stories, but only one very scary story. I drove up to the house and notice a group of men hanging around the side yard. I walk up to the door and did the pizza/money exchange all while these guys are yelling things at me in Spanish. I did my best to ignore them, but I guess they didn’t like a young female ignoring them.

Once I got off the porch they started yelling louder while running at me. I sprinted to my car and locked the doors. They stopped right in front of my car yelling who knows what at me in Spanish. Luckily I had an opening to get out of the drive and sped off. Told my manager about the incident and she made it a rule that only the men would deliver to that house for now on.

The rest of my stories are funny. My favorite were the stoned kids offering me a joint as a tip or that one time I wrote tip on my hand to piss the lady off who never tipped.

5. It’s like a horror movie.

It was my first day, I had moved back home after getting my degree so I started delivering pizza. After a few successful deliveries. I had an order a few miles out. It was a fairly big order but nothing too massive. So I head out and when I get to the address there were birthday balloons attached to their front gate.

I knock in the door and this ten year old boy stood there just in his underwear. Like literally just his briefs. I have never felt so uncomfortable. Well he shouts at his mom to get the money for his food. And he just stands there awkwardly staring at me. Not even blinking. It was so freaky. Well his mom gives him the money to which he hands it to me. And I give him the food. I had the distinct impression that food was just for him. But yeah.

Never have I left a place feeling so dirty as I did then.

4. She should have stayed.

I briefly worked for Jimmy John’s as a delivery driver during college, and although I had delivered pizzas throughout high school this is the story imprinted in my mind when I think of my delivery days.

It was a beautiful spring day and I was delivering about $40 bucks worth of sandwiches to a nice neighborhood in the early afternoon and was pretty stoked about my high probability of a good tip. As I suspected, I show up and the house is a real beaut. I walked up and hit the bell only to hear some guy yell from somewhere in the house, “Oh fuck yeah boys, JJs is here!”.

My first thought was how did some frat boys have a house this nice, this was near a mansion. Normally I wouldn’t let myself in but I decided to roll with it. I walk through the front door and this entire house starts cheering, and its filled with dads. My mouth is hanging open as they proceed to escort me downstairs to the “party palace”, all the while I’m stepping over children’s toys. When I get downstairs its the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen – a mans mancave.

They had a pool table, a fucking BARTENDER, and EIGHT TVs all streaming different games of march madness. Before I can even say anything they’ve handed me a shot to take with them and one of the dads says “Here’s to you, brotha!”. I ended up hanging out with them for almost 40 minutes and drank a beer while we watched the games and they explained that every year they take a week off from their firms and do this so they don’t miss a second of the march madness openings. When I finally was able to leave they kept asking me to stay and party and I was pretty sure I was would be fired but they kept protesting that I stay (the situation had me so dumbstruck by its surrealism that I just couldn’t leave). I finally get back to my store expecting to get canned, or at the very least a good tongue-lashing (our golden rule was 10 mins there, 10 mins back), only to find my manager slightly annoyed.

He said to me, “So, you met Mr. L huh?” I responded “Who?” To which he responded, “Mr. L called and said you would be running late and that your dedication in the line of duty is commendable – he’s a pretty wild franchise owner.”

tl;dr delivered to a dad party where they handed me drinks, had hired a bartender, made me stay for almost an hour, and bailed me out of trouble with my boss on account of one of them owning the damn franchise, and tipped me a fat $100 to party and watch March Madness with them.

3. Barely restrained himself.

As a veterinarian, I often take animals away after being euthanized, organize cremation, and then deliver the ashes back to the owners if I did the euthanasia at home so they don’t have to deal with a random stranger from the crematorium delivering the ashes back to them; they appreciate this.

One Sunday when I was off duty I knew I was going to be in the area of a client whose pet’s ashes needed returning, so I was not in uniform, and the ashes came in a plain white paper bag at the time with everything inside it.

I rang the doorbell, waited, saw the curtain move and someone peer out, and then nothing. So I knocked on the door again, someone came again, looked longer, and then opened the door. They started with a jump, and then apologized. “Sorry! I didn’t recognize you without your uniform and stethoscope. I thought you were a fast-food delivery guy.”

I looked at the bag in my hand, and bit my tongue – hard – as my body desperately wanted me to hand over the package saying, “One Dog, Extra Crispy.”

I instead said the usual courtesies and drove home, but I still wonder what would have happened if my mouth had run ahead of my brain.

2. What are you gonna do?

I spent a summer as a delivery driver for Jimmy Johns in a college town. There was a street where many of the houses were rented by fraternity and sorority members and passed down among the members from year to year. Needless to say, a lot of partying, and a lot of late night JJ’s, went down on this street.

So one weeknight, around midnight, I’m delivering a Hunter’s Club and Turkey Tom to a house that, from the front, looks empty. I ring the doorbell, nothing. Knock on the door, give my “this ain’t the po-lice ‘Jimmy Johns delivery'” proclamation, still nothing. Try the doorbell again. Nada. Another knock, to no avail.

After waiting a minute or two in front of this dark, obviously unoccupied house, I decide to head back to the store. As I turn to leave the porch, I hear the click of a gate latch from the side of the house. I walk over and am met by a very intoxicated young man, BUCK-A$S NAKED, walking down the driveway.

He looks right at me, a smile comes over his face, and in a Spicoli-esque burnout drawl, says “Jimmy Johns……………….HELL YEAH”, and saunters off down the driveway onto the sidewalk.

Perplexed by this exchange, and realizing the futility of requesting payment from a man with no pockets, I just got in my car and left. But to this day, anytime I hear anyone say “Jimmy Johns” I think back to my Mallette Street bro and say to myself “…HELL YEAH.”

1. The end of this story, though.

I was delivering pizza, two lanes on each side of the road with lights. 50 mph speed limit. Doing about that and a soccer mom in a caravan goes to pass me in the left lane. What she didn’t realize was that a cat had gotten it’s tail caught in the sliding side door of the minivan.

She drove about 3/8 of a mile doing 50 mph with a cats body just slamming up and back into the pavement. We got to a light and told her there a cat dangling from your door, she looked at me funny for 3 seconds then got out to look at the other side of her vehicle and saw the cat laying there, lifeless.

She opened the door, cat ran away.

These stories are entertaining, but I’m sure they were less so in the moment.

If you’re a delivery driver, please share your best stories with us in the comments!