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His Pizza Fee Is Not Grandfathered In

, , , | Right | June 4, 2019

(My dad owns a takeout pizzeria that was started by his father – my grandfather. The pizzeria is named in honor of my grandfather, who, at the time of this story, has been dead for 35 years. I order pizza on a Friday evening, which is a really busy time, and when I get to the store the line is about seven people long. Although I know the employees would let me cut to the front, I don’t like to do it because it makes other customers upset, so I just take my place in line behind a guy wearing a suit and start playing on my phone to pass the time.)

Suit Guy: “I can’t believe it’s taking so long.” *to the person in front of him* “How long have you been waiting? I’ve been waiting for about ten minutes now; this is crazy.”

Customer: “Oh. I don’t know. I haven’t been keeping track.”

Suit Guy: *aggressive* “You should keep track!” *spins to face me* “You! You just got in line; you should remember the exact time you got in line so you know how long it takes.”

Me: *looking up from the phone, kind of confused* Uh, why?”

Suit Guy: *straightens importantly* “I’m going to report my wait time to the owner! You should, too. This is crazy; this place used to run better.”

Me: *makes eye contact with [Cashier #1], who knows who I am and is trying not to laugh* “I don’t think I’ll report my wait time to the owner. But thanks for the advice.”

Suit Guy: “Hmpf! I’m a close personal friend of the owner, so I’m going to tell him about this the next time I see him!”

(I look closely at the guy’s face, just in case I should recognize him; I don’t, and am amused now.)

Me: “You’re close friends with [Grandfather]?”

Suit Guy: *nods, pleased that someone seems to be impressed by him* “Oh, yes. For a long time. He won’t be happy when he hears how long I had to wait for a f****** pizza! I’m telling him the next time I see him.”

Me: *trades looks with [Cashier #1] again, both of us are barely keeping in our laughter* “Hopefully, he’ll see that the wait time goes down in the future, then.”

Suit Guy: *nods a bit, pleased with this response*

(We eventually get up to the front of the line, and one teller starts checking out [Suit Guy] while I go up to the other teller. Note that the tellers are about five feet apart on the same counter. I don’t pay for the pizza, since my dad gives me free food. I just pick it up and start to walk away after a brief, friendly conversation with [Cashier #1].)

Suit Guy: “Hey, hey, wait! She didn’t pay for her pizza!”

(I stop, getting a little annoyed now. [Cashier #2] speaks up before I figure out what I want to say.)

Cashier #2: “Oh, yeah, she’s the owner’s daughter. She doesn’t pay for food.”

Suit Guy: *goes red, staring at me*

Me: “Yeah, and hey, if you’re really going to talk to [Grandfather] soon, can you ask him what heaven’s like? After you complain about the wait time, of course.”

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