Delivering A Deliverance

(I have agoraphobia, or a fear of leaving my house. Because of this, I am a regular customer at several delivery places who all know me just by the sound of my voice.)

Employee: “Thank you for calling [pizza place]; how can I help you today?”

Me: “Hi, I was actually wondering if you guys delivered to [hotel]?”

Employee: “…[my name], is that you?”

Me: “Yes, it is actually.”

Employee: “Are you okay? Why are you at [hotel]?”

Me: “Well, you see, a few days ago my house burned down.”

Employee: “Oh, my God! Are you okay?”

(I spend the next ten minutes telling the employee what happened. She asks how hard it was because of my condition, and seems genuinely concerned even though I could tell they are busy. I tell her that I’m starving since I haven’t eaten since the accident, and after a few minutes I tell her my order.)

Employee: “No bottles of soda today?”

Me: “No, I think I will have to do without them tonight.”

(She tells me my price and we hang up. About five minutes later I change my mind about the soda and call back, getting the same employee.)

Me: “This is [name] again; I changed my mind. I think I will add a soda to that.”

Employee: “Alright, got a two-liter diet on there for you, anything else?”

Me: “No, that’s all. What’s my new price?”

Employee: “Oh, um, don’t worry about it.”

Me: “What do you mean? I just added a soda so I have a new price right?”

Employee: “Well… when I hung up with you, I talked it over with my coworkers, and we all decided to pitch in and pay for your order.”

(I burst into tears, and thank her over and over again. The following week I rent an apartment that isn’t far from the store so I would still be in their delivery area.)