Pizza Hut
Written and experienced by: Jordan Andrews (1987)
Back in 1987-88 my friend and I worked at Pizza Hut as delivery drivers. We both were twenty years old and, at this point in time, Pizza Hut's delivery order system was done with hand written tickets with absolutely no system of checks and balances. So, out of ten pizzas delivered we would only turn in tickets for seven of them pocketing the money from the other three.
On weekends, we were super busy and would keep the money from a few more deliveriess, and that, along with our tips, made for a very profitable Saturday night (each of us usually walked away with about $125.00 in cash). At that time, an average night after work would be spent with a 12 pack and bag of pot, hanging at somebody's house, but that gets old real quick when you're twenty and you want something more exciting to do. So, on one night, my friend and I decided we would try and get into a nightclub in the next city, which was in the bordering state. So we make the 25 mile drive and pull into the first place that looked good. We were both asked for ID at the door and, due to our age, both of us said we didnt have one with us, so the door guy sent our loser asses on our way. We made it to the next place and it really looked good, with lots of people coming and going plus live music. After the first failure, we knew there was no way we were getting in without IDs, so my friend took out his drivers license and stared at it for a minute. Keep in mind that this was long before embedded imaging or different colors for under age drivers and all DLs looked the same, regardless of age. Hell, licenses from our state, back then, weren't even sealed in lamination and were simply removeable ID cards, stuck in clear plastic covers.
My friend and I were both born in 1968, so as he's staring at his license and says, "what if we change the eight to a three?" So, he took the license out of the plastic holder and grabbed his work shirt out of the back seat and removed his nametag. You see, the pin on the back had a sharp tip which allowed him to scratch away some of the ink on the 8 to make a pretty damn convincing 3. It wasn't perfect, but when he put it back into the cover, which was covered in numerous scratches, you couldn't tell! He then repeated the process for my DL and we made our way to the door. The guy sitting inside took my ID first and held it under the light and, quickly, handed it right back. I thought for sure he wasn't buying it, but then he asked me for the 3 dollar cover charge and did the same for my friend. We made it in and went straight to the bar. The band playing was pretty bad but the alcohol and drunk girls were good enough and buying drinks 'til close with Pizza Hut's money was the best.