North Star Writers Group

While many of us would like to believe in the rich Sicilian history of pizza, and all the secret recipes of the greatest of families traveling across the ocean to our lovely America, I believe the secret truth is a little bit different.

It all started with American parents looking for a way to bribe their children. Mrs. DiFazzio said to Mr. DiFazzio, “What can we do to get the boys to behave? They won’t stop fighting!”

They came up with the idea of ordering pizza. Surely, knowing that good behavior would lead to the tasty cheesy and saucy treat would cease all sibling rivalry for the day.

And it worked.

The tradition was passed down for centuries, and was even adopted by Irish American families like my own, and Dutch families like my husband’s. After all, the strategy was brilliant! My parents’ modified version was even better. Excellent behavior meant a friend spending the night, and – the very best part of it all – we could make our own pizzas!

For my husband, the youngest of three boys, a promise of pizza meant his brothers would give him a day free of being locked in the basement closet.

Recently, I’ve noticed that pizza has taken on an even more important role that bribery. In corporate America, pizza is now a substitute for true employee motivation, and often, a perfect, pepperoni-packed cover for incompetence.

This realization hit me along with an email I received about a dysfunctional program, started by a few leaders in my company. After countless hours of time, dedication and brainpower, less than 1 percent of our customers are being impacted by the program.

Stop the program? Nonsense! Revamp it entirely? No way – we’ve already put too much work into it. We don’t fix what’s broken! We – order pizza!

So, the failed program leaders are coming to speak at a meeting. Being ever mindful of my schedule, I must admit, this is a meeting I would consider blowing off in favor of getting some actual work done at my desk. But the email clearly said, “They’re bringing pizza!”

So, I will drag myself to the meeting, smile on my face and notebook in hand. I’ll have one slice of cheese pizza, and one loaded with everything. (As you know, the cheese-only slice balances out the calories of the loaded one.)

And, I’ll continue to put a ton of work and effort into a program that may not go anywhere, for at least another few weeks, because I was given pizza. And just as my motivation level goes down, bam! A team ice cream social will be scheduled. That will ensure that positive spirits and strong, albeit pointless, work ethics are sure to return!

I can’t decide who’s more brilliant. My parents or my bosses.

Either way, pizza really is the answer to many problems. Take marital relations, for example. When I’m a little cranky due to the stresses of work, motherhood, wifeliness and my housekeeping status (or, lack thereof), what do I suggest? “Let’s order pizza!”

Now, we just need a few things to truly establish pizza’s place in the annals of history. First, Gerber needs to come out with pizza in a baby food jar, so that the childhood bribery can start at say, six months.

Then, one of the large pizza chains needs to have a sit-down with George Bush or Condoleeza Rice, whichever one is running our foreign policy on that day, and plan to have a giant pizza delivered to the insurgents in Iraq.

World peace? I’m sure it’s just a phone call away.

Ring! Ring! “Yes, this is for delivery, please . . .”

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