Grubhub Guy Novels & Stories

Now, he was bitching about the lack of crudité, claiming it violated his contract and personal liberties. “Look, Stone,” I said, trying to reason with him. “If it bothers you that much, order a vegetable plate from GrubHub.” “You don’t understand the severity of the situation, Aidan! This is a personal rights issue!” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Look, kid, your ‘suffering’ doesn’t compare to the real world. Find a real problem. And, kid? Find someone else to bitch at.” I hung up, knowing my office would get an irate call from his agent, but I couldn’t care less.

Or it might depend totally on my mood. We picked out our food from the Grubhub website. I decided to get the rotisserie half chicken honey balsamic basil style with two sides, Julia got the rotisserie turkey with two sides. I hadn't eaten since breakfast. I don't know what Julia had to eat at Lisa's but she was hungry too. Delivery time was supposed to be 25-35 minutes, so I waited for 20 before I bent Julia over my knee and began applying the Enforcer to her delectable bottom. We had reached 22 strokes with the paddle and her bottom was a glorious red and she was silently sobbing when the doorbell rang.

“We’re short-staffed after yesterday’s chaos. Are you good to take the floor?” “Yeah. Let’s do it.” The breakfast rush hits fast. Regulars trickle in old men with newspapers, moms with kids, delivery guys on quick breaks. I move between tables, coffee pot in one hand, smile on autopilot. After a while, the door chimes. A familiar face walks in. It’s him—Ethan I think that's what he says his name was. The guy from yesterday. He's in a plain gray hoodie, hair still damp from a shower, his eyes scanning the room until they land on me. He smiles and heads to a corner booth.

"No need to pay. I was actually craving milk tea myself. Eat the kebab while it's hot. Don't worry, you'll definitely get a few big orders this afternoon to make up for your losses." The delivery guy stared at me blankly, then thanked me repeatedly. That evening, he specifically ran back to the shop and excitedly waved at me through the glass. He had taken an urgent team-building order from a large company that afternoon, earning over 100 dollars just from the delivery fees and tips.

I feel belonged in my cubicle, not with the people who claimed to love me. "What about you?" I asked him. "I am a chef at Meat & Greet. My work got so many orders," He says with a grin. I laughed at his words. "You have a dimple." He says, his eyes caressing my cheek without touching them. I gave him a smile as he talked about his restaurant and his dream to expand it. He asked me about my work and he waited until he got the chance to talk about his work.

“OK. Then can you please ask Mr. Ambrose to come down here!” The twenty-something scrawny dude frowned quizzically. “There’s no such person.” “You didn’t even check the records!” I argued. SLAM! The man leaned in, propping on his palm, and growled, “I started here ten days ago. And in those ten days, I am to let NO ONE up. So NO ONE had gone up.” “OK. What about his assistant? Or his driver? Do you have any emergency contact number for Mr. Rum? You know, if something happens to him at home—.”

Cassius said, winking at Dilo, who smiled at him. “Grub thinks you be all needings of a good Kuumakun meal and strong drink,” Grub announced, rising quickly from his seat and grinning broadly, clapping his hands together. “Grub will get all ready to give everybodies a meal never forgotten. Look here,” he said, lifting his shirt and drawing his pants down a little to show his right hip and a medium-sized glittering tattoo, “Grub once cook for entire army, in only one night!” “As long as it doesn’t smell like you,” Kealy jabbed, getting a snort of laughter from Venya, who turned away from Grub, her hand covering her mouth the stifle the noise.

"I haven't had time to do that today. I had to help me attend to the customers." "Oh. It's the rush hour?" He shook his head. "It's always rush hour around here. A customer leaves, two more take his place, and it's all me and my staff can do to keep up." "You're the owner?" The little man puffed up his chest proudly and pointed to the tag neatly pinned on his shirt, which I had missed. It read Will Hughes, manager. "That I am." "It's a nice place you got here, Mr Hughes."

"You said it. If it weren't for Grandmaster Zeller, who'd be crazy enough to come suffer here?" Felix listened silently to the crowd's chatter, waiting to see what would happen. Sure enough, a five-person squad appeared in uniform, and they were people from headquarters. "What's going on here?" The pizza place owner, Anton Marchal, immediately perked up, rushing to speak first, "Mr. Blackburn, look at this! These days, people won't even pay for their pizza. Such country bumpkins." Gert Otis, the middle-aged customer, exploded in fury. "You bastard! I dare you to say that again!"

" um..um .. Pizza delivery for ... um sir your order" The delivery guy stuttered as he stood by the door in amazement. I was used to this, ordinary people often stutter in my presence, something I find most amusing. I reached out taking my order from the delivery guy, then walked away, expecting the delivery guy to leave as well but he didn't, instead he still stood by the door staring at me. " Ohh... right, a tip" I realized he needed me to tip him, I quickly grabbed my wallet from the sofa and pulled out a couple of $100 dollar bills, about six hundred dollars and then gave it to the delivery man.