9 Brothers Pizza

Across the street is a place we call “9 Brothers Pizza.” We call it that since every guy who works there is related somehow. It’s real convenient for lunch, and the food is decent. But the problem with going there is that most of the girls give us an attitude whenever we come in.

Everyone there recognizes us and knows we work at The Business. It’s funny, when we eat there all the brothers will eventually flock to our table and chat. Most of the girls who work there just give us dirty looks from across the room. Luckily, some of the waitresses are friendly enough so that we can actually have a peaceful lunch every now and then.

I know what you’re all wondering and the answer is "No" – none of the brothers have ever been a customer. In fact, if any of them came in we’d probably offer them therapeutics only since it’s never good business to advertise TOO close to home. No, I think they’re all just too nervous to try our services.

Now the head cook I actually remember from high school. It’s almost impossible to have a meal over there without him wanting to come over and gossip about fellow classmates – and I am not one to shy away from gossip! I think he enjoys catching up on news, but I also think he enjoys making the other brothers jealous of the attention.

The women there are a whole different story.

I’m not sure exactly how many of them are “sisters.” What I do know is that some of those bitches have been downright rude to us, and on a few occasions wouldn't even seat us! There was this one time when a waitress absolutely refused to come to our table to take our order. I know that bitch was just hoping we’d take the hint and just leave, but I got up and called over my high school buddy from the kitchen. Then I proceeded to tear that bitch a new asshole in front of a room full of diners.

Now let me tell ya – that did the trick! Since then, whenever we come in they usually seat us in the corner of the smoking section (yes we all smoke – shoot us). That way we can have our own non-bitchy waitress, and all the brothers can pay their respects without causing a distraction to the other customers. Personally, I think the real reason they stick us in a corner is so we don’t distract any of the husbands/boyfriends in the main dining area (did ya ever see a husband get caught by his wife gawking at other women? It ain’t pretty, but it makes for a great fight in the parking lot afterwards).

It’s funny – when you work for tips, you usually tend to tip others more generously. Heck, I even tip the guy who pumps my gas (I always use the “full-service” pumps at the gas station. Isn't that ironic?). So we ALWAYS leave a sweet tip for our waitress – partly because she takes care of us, but mostly to piss off the rest of those bitches.

Now whenever we’re in the mood for a decent cheesesteak – we have to hit the diner out by the freeway. None of the people who work there know who we are, but we can always count on a familiar trucker or two to say “Hi!”

CJ