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    One Slice Of Trigonometry, Coming Up

    | California, USA |

    Customer: “How many slices are in your medium pizza?”

    Me: “We cut it into 8 slices, but if you’d like we can cut it into 12 or even 16.”

    Customer: “Oh no! Don’t do that, I can’t eat that much. Just cut it into 8.”

    Not-so-righteous Indignation

    | Bakersfield, CA, USA |

    (A customer claims they had found cockroaches in several pizzas we had delivered earlier. My manager tells me to go ahead and give them their money back.)

    Me: “Here’s your money refunded in full, and again, we’re very sorry for this. It’s never happened before.”

    Customer: “This is unacceptable! We’re never ordering from you again. You should feel ashamed!”

    Me: “Again, we’re very sorry. If you could just give me the pizzas back, I’ll dispose of them for you.”

    Customer: “Well…I don’t have them anymore.”

    Me: “What did you do with them?”

    Customer: *sheepishly* “I gave them to my kids.”

    Pepperoni Paranoia

    | Maple Ridge, BC, Canada |

    (I had two deliveries in the same area, and I had the 2 orders in one bag. I get to first house, take the pizza out of the bag and go to the door.)

    Me: “Hi, that will be $28.27.”

    Customer: “What is this? Where’s my bag?!”

    Me: “What do you mean? What bag?”

    Customer: “My security bag!”

    Me: “You mean heat-wave bag?”

    Customer: “NO! MY SECURITY F*****G BAG!”

    Me: “You know, it’s a heat bag to keep the pizza warm, and it’s held with velcro.”

    Customer: “ARE YOU F*****G STUPID?! I WANT MY SECURITY FACTOR! HOW DO I KNOW YOU DIDN’T PUT ACID IN MY BAG AND TRY TO KILL ME?!”

    Me: “Well…here is your pizza.” *collects money* “You may call the store with any complaints.”

    (Later she called the store and told the manager she couldn’t put it in her garbage because there might be acid in it.)

    Definitely Not In The Job Description

    | Chilliwack, BC, Canada | Top

    Me: “Thanks for calling [pizza place]. How may I help you?”

    Caller: “Yes, I would like…” *places order as usual*

    Me: “Okay, is there anything else I can do for you?”

    Caller: “Yes! When the driver arrives, could you tell him these instructions?”

    Me: “Okay. I’ll be your driver, by the way.”

    Caller: “Alright. First, I want you to knock on the window 3 times, then yell like a Wookie. Then knock 2 more times and make alien noises.”

    Me: “Alien…noises?”

    Caller: “You know the ‘click’ and stuff. Like in the movie…uhh, what movie is that again?”

    Me: “You mean Signs?”

    Caller: “Yeah! That’s the one. Okay, so after you does that, knock three more times and then yell, ‘PLANKTON!’”

    Me: “Anything else?”

    Caller: “Oh yeah, do you have any lingerie?”

    Me: “Not on me…”

    Caller: “Oh, well you should drive home and then find some, and wear that to the door.”

    Me: “Okay, is that all, ma’am?”

    Caller: “Yeah, but don’t forget the lingerie!”

    (I decide to go along with the caller’s request, put on some shorts, and roll the legs up so it’s similar to a Speedo. Half an hour later, I arrive at their door. The entire party comes outside to watch my show of knocks and clicks, and then poses with me to take pictures. I got a $15 tip, too!)

    Going For Broke With The Gouda

    | Cottonwood Heights, UT, USA |

    Me: *on the phone* “**** Pizza, will this be for delivery or carry-out?”

    Caller: “Delivery.”

    (We go through the order, and we come to the toppings.)

    Caller: “Yeah, a supreme pizza. And make sure the toppings aren’t cheesy!”

    Me: “You don’t want cheese on them?”

    Caller: “No! I said I don’t want them to be cheesy!”

    Me: “Um, our toppings are of good quality…”

    Caller: “I’m sure they are, but I don’t want them cheesy! CHEESY!”

    (I hear a kid’s voice in the background.)

    Caller: “Oh, my eight-year-old says to say, ‘don’t hold back on the toppings’. You understand that?”

    Me: “Oh…yes, I understand now.”

    Caller: “Good. Don’t be cheesy.”


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