Unfiltered Story #110965

(I am working as the closing manager at a popular fast food restaurant this evening, and we have already closed. All the machines either have been or are being taken apart and cleaned, and everything is turned off. I am counting down the final register when I get a call.)

Me: “This is [Restaurant]. What can I do for you?”

Man: “De-liver-EE!”

(He has a strange accent and has pronounced “delivery” with nearly a shriek at the last syllable. It is very odd, but I figure he has called the wrong place, since we don’t do deliveries and never have at any of our locations.)

Me: “You’ve just called [Restaurant]. We—”

Man: “I KNOW! De-liver–EE!”

(It suddenly dawns on me that he might be just a wee bit drunk, high, or both, and that explanations aren’t going to work on him, and he won’t remember anything in the morning, anyway, so…)

Me: “I’m sorry, but we’re closed now. You’ll have to call back in the morning.”

(I hung up without waiting for a response. He never called back, but to this day, I fondly remember the guy with the accent and high, shrieking voice demanding a “de-liver-EE.”)