I'm a pizza guy and I got held at gunpoint.

Every night, I drive into those unspeakable neighborhoods which most people only see in the news. The ones where people shoot each other. Where police rotate in 3-month shifts because they get too shell-shocked after that. Where everyone I give food to looks like a hardened criminal on the outside, but deep down inside, is just a human trying to survive. I'm an essential service worker, so I still go through here every night.<br><br>My line of work involves walking a pizza a third of a mile up the street in the middle of night in these parts. I'm surrounded by darkness in the absence of streetlights. The only thing I have for peace of mind is reassuring myself with the statistic that despite all the crime, odds are, most people are good people who don't want to hurt me. And I take pride in the fact that I risk my life to do my job.<br><br>I've been doing this for so long, that I can see potential threats in the shadows. It's a skill you only develop when your life is at stake. The majority of times, I'm wrong after they pass by without incident, but I would rather err on the side of caution. That's how I survived this long.<br><br>Another night, another pizza, another neighborhood. I was all the way at the bottom of a dead-end street. That's when I saw them. A group of 5 guys huddled together, armed to the teeth, lurking in the shadows. They were certainly trouble, and I could see them from afar because of the streetlight above them. I froze.<br><br>My mind racing, I thought of all the things I could do to protect myself. I didn't even have pepper spray. The street was too long to turn around and run without them noticing. I was already in their sights. The only thing I knew I had to do was not show any signs of detecting them. The best thing to do was continue walking down the street acting oblivious and try to get as much distance as I could without them being suspicious. Hopefully, I'd be able to turn a corner far before they could catch up to me.<br><br>I played the part well. I walked down the street at a steady pace while pretending I was oblivious to their presence. Every step took forever. I was 2 houses away from them when I saw their heads turn towards each other, and I could tell they were discussing something. One of them turned and cleared his gun. Even though they were a good 25 feet away from me, the sound still rang in my ears.<br><br>That's when I took off in a full sprint. I kept close to the houses in case they took cover behind them to shoot me. I took the nearest turn I could into an alleyway and ran as fast as I could. For some reason, I thought I could outrun a bullet. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 as I ran.<br><br>I had to stop once I noticed they didn't follow me. Definitely not the brightest thing to do, but overpowering curiosity took over me as to whether or not they were still behind me. When I stopped running, I realized I had left both the pizza and my car behind. I decided to finish the delivery.<br><br>I walked back to the house. I knew where it was since I had already been walking in the right direction. Everything was in vain if I couldn't deliver the pizza to the person who risked my life to order it. I walked up the door. It was slightly open. There was only silence on the other side. I knocked. I called the customer. No one picked up. A chill ran down my spine when I noticed the door was wide open to a dark house.<br><br>At that moment, I heard footsteps. My heart sank. They were coming towards me. I decided to knock one more time. When no one answered, I turned and walked away. As I did, I heard the footsteps coming faster. I whipped around. A man with a gun pointed at me stood in front of me.<br><br>I was frozen in fear. My body locked up. I couldn't run. I couldn't fight. I couldn't move. Thankfully I had 911 pulled up on my phone in my shaking hand because I couldn't verbalize any words if my life depended on it. I cried for help.<br><br>I don't know why, but the man didn't pull the trigger. He lowered his gun and I realized he was the person I was running from. That house was where I had to deliver the pizza. The man was waiting for me to show up and was on the lookout for the guys he had a price on his head. He shot one of them and they were closing in on him. The open door was proof of that.<br><br>The cops showed up 10 minutes later. 10 minutes of pure hell for the customer who was taking cover under a mattress with a Glock held to his teeth. The police apprehended the other 4. There were no video surveillance cameras in the neighborhood since they always get stolen and broken. I would never get justice for the threat against my life. At least one of them was apprehended. It probably wasn't the right one, but it was better than nothing.<br><br>I got back to the car. It was still there. I cried.<br><br>I quit my job two weeks later.<br><br>**EDIT**<br><br>I feel obligated to make a few statements about the story for all those who are interested.<br><br>I apologize that I didn't specify I was a pizza delivery driver before. There's no way I would ever get paid to only deliver. If that were the case, I would expect a much higher hazard pay. :) I deliver and sell pizzas. I sell 4-5 pizzas an hour and I do this 5 nights a week. I'm great at my job and I make good money, but it costs me my life. I've been in 6 near death experiences and have broken down emotionally.<br><br>When I said I had to walk a third of a mile, I meant from my car to the door. I always park a third of a mile from the house in these neighborhoods for safety. I'll drive up to the house in nice neighborhoods.<br><br>When I said 911 didn't show up for 10 minutes, it's because I called them 5 minutes after I knocked on the door. It took me 5 minutes to get the courage to knock because I didn't know what was inside. If I had simply ran out of there, I would have left the pizza and the customer behind. I know it doesn't make sense, but I did it anyway.<br><br>I felt safe enough to return 2 weeks later because the police said they caught all of them. If they were going to retaliate, they would have done so already. It's the same reason why I didn't move out. It was a random encounter with a group of gang members. The chances of encountering the same group again are slim.<br><br>I wrote this post not necessarily for the story, but for the point. At the end, I quit my job. It's because those kind of encounters are becoming more and more common. I should have quit two years ago. The reality is, I needed the money. I'm glad I'm leaving now. It's a high risk, low-reward job. The kind of neighborhood I deliver to is becoming more common as well. The streets aren't as safe as they used to be. I will not sacrifice my life for a McDonald's wage.