Benjamin, Cousin To Ruprecht  

, , , , , | Right | September 8, 2019

(I work at a family-owned pizza parlor. I receive a call for delivery, and I swear the caller is housing an angry demon, based on the crashing noises in the background.)

Me: “This is [Restaurant]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Um, yeah, can I order a pizza I don’t want?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Caller: “Like, I don’t want it now…”

Me: “Oh, you want to order ahead?”

Caller: “Yeah!”

Me: “Okay, we can do that.”

Caller: “I need it ready by seven… o’clock… pm.”

Me: “Sounds good. What did you want to order?”

Caller: “Oh, uh, a small cheese pizza.”

Me: “Okay! We’ll have it ready for you!”

(There’s a huge crash from his end.) 

Caller: “Good Lord! I need to make that a large, please!”

Me: “Yes, sir… Um, can I have a name for that order, please?”

Caller: “Ben.” *another huge crash* “Fine! Benjamin if you want me to be formal.”

Me: “Thank you, sir. Your pizza will be ready at seven.”

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