Matthew Taylor

Prof. Chiang-Schultheiss

English 100

July 21, 2002

Pizza Delivery: A Behaviorist's Observation of American Civilization

 The ticket read “Karl ‘The Mailman’ Malone,” and listed the address of the NBA all-star.  Arriving at the home I rang the doorbell, and opened the dingy red pizza bag freeing the warm air from the pouch.  But the chill of her (Mrs. “The Mailman” Malone’s) voice soon obfuscated the particulars of the pizza as she began barking commands at her husband.  Like a drill sergeant on the first day of boot camp, she used rapid-fire precision and possessed a rigid tone, so I chuckled as my sadistic alter ego derived satisfaction from the melee (Even millionaire basketball stars have to listen to their wives).  As time passed, I became more empathetic, for the grating interrogatory phrases continued: “Where is the money? …You’re Karl Malone (as though this meant something) …you hear me? …What are you doing?”  In my discomfort, I considered throwing the pizza and doing a commando roll across the porch, but instead just stood like a dolt in the midst of the conflict.  Finally, he emerged from the basement.  “Come on,” he said sheepishly, “I think I’ve got some cash in the truck.”  He placed a hand on top of the jet-black Humvee, and then opened the door to retrieved twenty bucks from the ashtray.  “Here you go kid,” he said, handing me the money.  It was obvious as he stood in the driveway with me, the pizza guy, that this was the lowly denouement of an incredibly long day.  As I stood listening to him vent the day’s frustrations, I realized how similar a pizza guy and a psychologist are as they make observations of their patients--I mean customers.  Just as the shrink learns about people through their behavior, a pizza man gains understanding of people by the way they order food.

An experienced driver in a downtown location is shocked when she receives a call from a “first-timer”. What is this? How can someone live in America, be over the age of sixteen, and be caught in the act of placing a first time pizza order?  This should be considered unconstitutional. A violation of: life, liberty, and the mandate to order pizza. The customer who enters a store and begins an order by saying “I think I’d like a pizza with… aahh… well… gee I don’t know, what’s good on pizza?” should expect a boisterous, sarcastic retort like “aahh… well… gee I don’t know, how about sardines!”  These customers cannot expect to be shown compassion when they are so clearly removed from American culture.  The customer so inexperienced in pizza consumption is beyond beneficial analysis offered by the expertise of a clinical pizza guy.

Another classification of pizza customer that has not fully embraced the cultural norm is the “once-in-awhile”.  They may enjoy an occasional pizza with any activity or just to have a night off from cooking.  A delivery guy found a family that was actually sitting around the kitchen table together playing a board game.  “Why?” he thought.  No television?  No Fighting?  The busy parents were just sitting with their children wasting time.  There must be something better they could do.  There are others in this category that order pizza because they want to fit in with their neighbors, so they buckle under social pressure, and once a month call for a 7:00pm dinner delivery.  Surely they do not want to be the only house in the cul-de-sac that has not had the pizza man standing on the porch.

As people evolve, they will begin ordering pizza to enhance the experience of movie night.  Nothing will improve the articulate video instruction--received from a fourth viewing of Dumb and Dumber, You’ve Got Mail, or Predator--more than a pizza.   Just pull out some paper plates, and voila; no one has to do the dishes. Better yet, save the plates for Sunday dinner, and eat off napkins.  Those who order pizza for watching videos almost immediately comprehend the omnipotence we possess as Americans.

The family who orders pizza three or more times a week displays the values of the culture that is so often observed by the pizza man.  Some children would find themselves living in less than third world conditions were it not for the invention of pizza delivery.  For some to maintain sustenance it is expected that an order be placed almost daily.  Seldom does an adult answer the door, for the cacophony of screaming children and blaring music makes the continuous ringing of doorbell nearly inaudible. These families are well accustomed to the advantages of a ready-made delivery supper.  The habitual indulgence of others is derived from the fact that the technical skills required to open a box of Craft Macaroni and Cheese (let alone bake something) has advanced beyond their ingenuity.

The classification that most closely personifies the culture is found ordering pizza on Friday nights, and for ballgames.  This class is composed of all walks of life, from leather-clad men in a biker bar, to the punctilious Polo wearing frat boys lounging around the pool.  As countrymen we all enjoy opening a cold twelve pack of Bud and devouring a couple of pizzas.   In one store the pizza drivers all wait with anticipation for each sporting event.  They know an order is bound to go to “the big man,” as he is affectionately called in the store.  The big man earned the nickname, not only for his six foot frame and four hundred and fifty pounds, but also from a history of well paid tips. One cool night during the NFL season, an order for the big man exposed a dreadful image (and I mean exposed), for he was only wearing sandals as he sat spread eagle on the couch with his dainty (size fourteen) feet perched on either end of coffee table.  After the initial horror passed, the driver realized he must do something: Notify the police!  Call animal control?  File a claim with OSHA?  There has to be a government agency for this, he thought.  Why would someone call for a pizza, and sit in the buff with the front door open?  Yes, the big man had definitely assimilated into the predominant culture. 

It is a fallacy to assume that the people staying in a hotel are the same as those ordering pizza from home.  Staying in a hotel causes some Americans to form a new identity so under the veil of anonymity they can completely ratify their citizenship.  Hotels are places where businessmen forget they have wives to enjoy an interlude with their twenty something-year-old secretaries, where vacationers let loose with life’s extravagances, and those who can’t afford an apartment find lodging by the week.  When visiting a hotel, a delivery person may find the scene as though it were depicting a poorly scripted episode of the Jerry Springer show.  A driver, who takes numerous orders to hotels each week, recounted his experiences during spring break.  He saw two fights, a raging party (where the police arrived before he did), and a mass of coeds skinny-dipping in the pool.   Although such incidents happened frequently, they were not as memorable as the day he pulled into the finest downtown hotel.  It was an elegant building that did not contain drunken spring breakers.  He knocked on the room door and heard something on the other side; there was a long pause, and then he knocked again.  Several minutes passed, and just as he turned to leave, a tall slender woman with blonde hair answered the door.  The room was filled with darkness, excluding the single candle that cast her silhouette against the wall. Her image was faint until she stepped through the doorway.  She was quite stunning, yet her seductive smile was overshadowed by the pale blue negligee hanging off of her shoulder, which revealed that it was all she wore (besides her wedding ring).  Her forward manner and speech made it known that the delivery she wanted did not involve a pizza.  As the delivery guy left without a tip (of any kind) he recognized the experience made evident the relationship between American culture and hotel guests.

Indeed, American civilization has extricated itself from the humble beginnings laid by our fore fathers.  It is difficult to imagine the framers of the constitution saying “the meeting will be adjourned until tomorrow, unless everyone wants to stay late and order pizza.”  Now a days it is all too often found that poor unconscious choices are made, as a society and as individuals, when determining how we vest our time.  This is well illustrated by the words of Ellen J. Langer, Ph.D., a professor of psychology at Harvard University:

We like to think that we're the masters of our fate, that what we do is determined by the kind of people we are, our personal values and our loftier goals.  But … mundane and often subtle situational factors are what guide our behavior.  Because of this disjunction between why we think we do what we do and why we actually do what we do, we give up a good deal of control over our lives. (67) 

Whether a person is Karl Malone, a father at home with his children, or a lonely housewife escaping to a hotel, it is imperative that individual actions remain congruent with professed personal values.  Under the current circumstances, where the actions of a radically ridiculous few can create the perceived summation of our culture identity, the conscious must make an increased effort to live beyond reproach.  Only then will we be able to contribute the requisite struggle for obtaining the loftier goals that will improve our society and ultimately direct our nation’s fate.

Work Cited

Langer, Ellen J. “Why Do We Do the Things We Do? Explaining Behavior Less Abstractly May Give You More Control Over Your Life.” Psychology Today May 2002: 67.