The Pizza Dude (and other names)

I am the Pizza Dude.

It is an odd name, true, and it would be stranger still to those who knew me from my Domino’s Pizza days. Weren’t we all pizza dudes?

But it’s the name I get at my property maintenance job and it’s the name I have lived with for more than five years. It’s also the name I get called more than any other. It’s possible there are people I work with who don’t even know my given name.

I earned this title because I was managing a pizza store when I started with Brock Property Maintenance and would bring in a pie for the guys from time to time. And with a staff of North of Seven boys and assorted sketchy characters with handles like Chief, Squirt, Junior, Doo Wop and Jim Bob, it should not be surprising that I earned a nickname as well.

But unlike other pseudonyms which are part-time at best, Pizza Dude has passed the test of time. My boss only uses the name my Momma gave me when he’s trying to apologize (in his north of seven way) and (sometimes) when he’s handing out the pay cheques.

I’m comfortable with it. In fact, I treat it sort of like a badge of honour. THE Pizza Dude.  Delusionary, I know, but I’m comfortable with that too.

I get called other names as well. Some are even complimentary.

Number two on the list is the name I am most proud of: Dad. And who wouldn’t be. I am with my youngest son Jake a lot, so I get called that name a lot. Never get tired of it.

It was a tough call for third, but we’re talking about face-to-face name calling, not social media conversations, so Grampy Glenn would be next. I look after my three wonderful grandchildren often so I hear a lot of “Grampy Glenn, look at me,” and Grampy Glenn, you’re on my foot.”

Never get tired of that either.

Glenn would have to be next. I like my name and it would be nice to hear it more but I might have to change jobs for that to happen. (Not such a bad idea, come to think.)

There’s more. At my evening job with R ‘n D Delivery, I am called ‘33’ or Old Yeller. Thirty-three ‘cause that’s my number, as in “33 clear” and “33 is tired and wants to go home.” Old Yeller because Heather thinks I yell into the phone too much. My ex-wife would probably agree with her but neither one of them understands the magic of ‘projection.’ I know that if I were invited to address a few thousand people at a grand hall, you know, to accept an award for something, I wouldn’t need a mike to NOT thank them. So there.

There’s also Number Two Son. Old Friend. (Huh. Not that old, Don) And probably a few others that might be fodder for another blog.

I also get Handsome Devil and Sexy Beast a lot.

Okay, no one ever calls me that. But I’m trying to start a trend.