It’s Not Delivery: It’s a Felony
We here at Boston Daily fancy ourselves to be the non-violent type. We believe in shaming people on the internet instead of bringing the pain through punches. But today’s Globe story about the way you rob pizza delivery workers has us rethinking that stance.
While robberies of delivery people have been a long-standing problem – 52 were reported through Sept. 16 this year – the recent rash of thefts opens a window into the perils of a seemingly mundane job that sends drivers with nothing more than cash and food to some of the city’s crime-ridden areas.
On Friday, a Domino’s pizza delivery man was assaulted by three men after he drove to Roslindale to deliver pizza and barbecue wings. The men shoved him into the back of the car, ate the food, and fled with his cellphone and money.
Aside from robbing homeless people or little old ladies, this seems like the worst kind of mugging. Not only do you scare the crap out of some guy who makes next to nothing for the noble work of feeding the hungry, you deprived a hungry person of the food he desperately needed. Wings and pizza is a great way to unwind on a Friday night, and that poor guy didn’t get them.
And perhaps never will again, since many businesses won’t deliver to high-violence areas:
“We have some streets where I don’t go,” said Farhad Ahmed, a 26-year-old driver for Southbay Grill in Roxbury. “We tell them it’s too far. Call somebody else.” . . .
“If it looks dangerous, if it seems dangerous, then I don’t care,” said Harry Harry, Katrina’s general manager. “Bring the food back. Safety for the team first.”
Not only are you committing a crime, you’re also interfering with our pizza, and that makes us angry. When we’ve had a bad day at work and can’t bear the thought of going out to fetch dinner, the pizza guy saves us the trouble. After a night of imbibing, a hastily-ordered pepperoni pizza can often make the next day’s hangover tolerable. These people do a noble service, and because of you punks, they may stop doing it.
Stop stealing from the fine food-delivery workers of Boston. Or we may bring the pain with our greasy pizza-loving fists.