With all of the demands on my time, such as work school, work, lawns, wife, work, kids, P.E., etc., the last thing I should be doing is updating this lame blog. But, my mind needs the break a little creativity can give it. By the way, by P.E. I mean that every Friday afternoon I take Dallin's class to P.E. That's right, I'm a Room Mom. I did the same for Abby's 5th grade class two years ago and did not learn better than to do it again. Besides, time with my Sunshine Bear (one of Dallin's many nicknames) is precious to me.
The first picture is of my family and some ugly old guy who jumped in to the picture. If you copy it and simply crop me out you have one nice photo! The picture below is of our scout camp out last Friday night. I have had two Friday nights off this year and I spent both of them with the scouts. I need some serious social re-training. A special thanks goes out to Debi for letting me borrow her PTA Wagon to pull the scout trailer. Inside the trailer is a camp stove that made for some good cookin'! Dallin and Zach came with me and we had a great time.
So anyway (my idea if a smooth transition), I have been spending too much time wrapping my mind around my accounting class. It has infiltrated my dreams. All I see at night are balance sheets, general journals, assets, liabilities, and other horrendous sights. Tonight, however, I am going to share the tale of Paul Horwinski and the Great Pizza Caper. I encourage you to read this with low expectations because then you will be less disappointed at the end.
I had wiped the blood off of my boots, but I still felt a little uncomfortable. They were only tiny spots. Three of them, each smaller than a tear drop, just above the pocket of my short sleeved white shirt. But in my mind those little blood stains were a flashing sign, revealing my uncleanliness to the world. I am much more relaxed now, but back then I was uncomfortable if there was a wrinkle in my shirt, a button missing, a hair out of place, or any other sign of sloppiness. I walked into Scene One Video and Pizza a little after one o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon. I had eaten many pizzas from there before, but I had never actually gone in and picked one up myself.
We had a tradition going on back then. It was some time in the late 90's and the four of us worked together in the meat shop at the old Provo Storehouse. I was the meat manager, married, the father of baby girl, ploding through an English degree at BYU one class at a time, and working 55+ hours a week to make ends meet. Johnny was single, getting a degree in Philosophy, and stocking the freezer. Johnny was a friendly guy, into sports, and always willing to help anyone. He spent a lot of time helping us, slicing meat and hams for customers, facing our counter, and making it a funner place to work. Cory was newly married and the supervisor over all of the meat departments. Saturday afternoons he always came in and had lunch with us. And this brings us to Paul.
Paul Edward, or Edward Paul Horwinski III. I can't remember the order of his name but I will never forget him. Paul was a character. He was also certified to fill propane tanks in the state of California. I know, he told me. And he showed me his license, complete with photo. Paul was a theatre major at BYU and one of the most interesting people I have ever met. We had many funny games going on in the meat shop, and they were eight hour games. That's right, each of Paul's shifts came complete with a theme and we did not break from it for anything. One of Paul's favorites was Fish Bowl Friday. He would close the sliding windows in the shop and pretend we were underwater. He would swim with his arms when he walked and he would blow bubbles with his mouth. When he spoke it sounded like he was gargling. Needless to say, I helped the customers at the window on Fridays. We got many strange looks from people, but it was fun. Another fun game, before I get back to the story, (I bet you don't even remember where this started) was Brian Wilson Day. Paul brought his CD player to work everyday and periodically would pronounce a day as Brian Wilson Day. This meant that he would loop the Bare Naked Ladies song Brian Wilson for the entire eight hours and sing along at the top of his voice. Non-stop. Again, a day when I helped all of the customers.
So anyway (another smooth transition) every Saturday afternoon Cory would come in and Johnny would make his way back to the shop and we would call Scene One Pizza next door and order our own individual pizza and drink meal. Then we would hand our cash to Paul he would go and pick the pizzas up. It struck me as odd that Paul always volunteered to go. He was, after all, notoriously lazy. (Slow motion day was another favorite of his). At times, he would simply lie down on the floor, curl up, and take a two-minute nap. Right in the middle of wrapping something. Understand this, I love Paul. And he was a fun guy to be around. He was even a very good worker, though he would deny that label to the death. But he loved to make a big deal about not doing anything more than the bare minimum. And that he said he did grudgingly. But every Saturday afternoon he jumped to volunteer to go and pick up the pizzas. Rain, shine, heat, blizzard, didn't matter. There were even Fridays when he left the fish bowl because we had decided to break with tradition and have pizzas twice in a week. He always covered it by saying he had to return a movie or pick one up while he was getting the pizza so it was actually saving him a trip, plus he was getting away from work, thereby increasing his laziness. But all the same, it still struck me as funny, and very out of character for him to volunteer to go. Besides, it involved walking, and doing something for someone else, both things Paul was diametrically opposed to doing.
This went on for several months until one fateful Wednesday when Paul had the day off. Johnny was done filling the freezer and had come in to see if I needed any help. This was before the flying frozen turkey incident, which is another story I may share, if you want to hear it. But, back to the fateful Wednesday. It was a slow day, the work for the day was done, and we were hungry. We decided to splurge a little and order pizzas. Johnny was helping a customer while I called in the order so I volunteered to go pick them up. Walking in I was overcome by the smell of great pizza. You know the smell. I was also a little disoriented after walking through the rows of videos. If you are old enough you will remember a time when there were businesses that rented VHS videos and sold pizzas. Our grandchildren will never believe such businesses existed, but they did. And they were glorious.
The combination of the aroma, the dizziness of walking through the maze, the John Cougar Mellencamp video blaring from multiple screens, and my self-consciousness over the blood spots on my shirt, left me a little disoriented. I had to apologize to the clerk and ask him to repeat what he had he just asked me.
"You got your card?"
"I don't want a movie, just the pizzas" I answered.
He rolled his eyes grabbed a small card and a hole puncher. Click, click, "here you go."
I looked at the card and asked, "So, how long have you guys been doing this card?"
"Longer than I've been here, that's about six, seven months now."
"Thanks," I said as I put the card in my wallet. I picked up the pizzas and the drinks and walked out with a smile on my face.
"Hey Johnny, get a load of this," I said as I handed him his pizza and the card.
"What's that?" he asked.
"The answer," I said. He looked a little puzzled and asked "the answer to what."
"You'll see tomorrow morning, let's eat!"
A little after six, Thursday morning and Paul walks into the shop and goes through his ritual. He gets his CD player out and plugs it in. He asks if I watched Mystery Science Theater the night before and then begins to tell me about it as he pulls on a clean smock. Johnny walks in behind him to say good morning. I motion him over.
"Paul," I asked, interrupting his diatribe, "could you tell me how this thing works?"
I handed him the card with two holes in it I had gotten from Scene One Pizza and Video the day before. A sheepish grin crossed his face and he knew he had been caught.
"Umm," he said, before I interrupted again.
"Now it seems to me that you buy four pizza meal deals and then get the fifth one at half price. Then you buy four more and get the tenth one free. Is that how it works?"
"Umm," was all he could get out. He knew he was dead in the water.
Johnny and I started to laugh.
"I knew there was something going on when you volunteered to pick up the pizzas. You rotten bugger, I knew it. When Edward Paul Horwinski the third goes out of his way to help someone, that someone can only be himself."
He looked a little embarassed and unsure. I started to laugh again.
"Well done, well done," I said as I handed him the card. "You might as well use this one too, just like you used us. And don't worry, I'm not mad. Anyone who can keep a con going on for as long as you did should be congratulated. But I am curious, how much have you spent out of pocket on pizza's since we started."
A little glint of pride showed up in his eyes and a smile cracked his lips as he told us, "well, since my roommate's like that pizza so much, and of course, being the generous person I am, I always offer to pick it up for them, as well as pick up or drop off movies for them, because after all, I am all about doing unto others, of course..."
"Of course," Johnny and I agreed.
"I think I paid for one pizza the first time I went in and they gave me a card. Since then, I've had sixty or seventy pizzas and paid nothing. I mean when I had to pay for the half price ones, I figured every ones change was like a delivery tip, so you know..."
That pizza theivin' bugger. I really wasn't mad at him. But I was sure jealous of his devious ways.
Well done, Paul, wherever you are!
