Kicking Up A Stink

, , , , , , , | Right | January 16, 2018

(I work for a popular pizza delivery company. I am on my way to an address with an order. My car has got the light-up sign on top of it with the company logo on it. I have stopped at a traffic light when suddenly my rear passenger door opens. A lady I don’t recognise puts a whole load of shopping bags in before climbing in herself.)

Lady: “All right, I need to get to [Town an hour’s drive away]. The address is…”

Me: “Whoa! Sorry, madam, but I’m not actually a taxi. I work for [Pizza Place].”

Lady: *looks at me like I’m crazy* “I know that! But you’re better than a taxi service! I’m sure you know the roads just as well, and I wouldn’t have to spend an extortionate amount of money, either!”

Me: “Madam, I’m not allowed to take passengers, and even if I could I never head to [Town]; it’s outside our delivery area!”

Lady: *huffy* “Well! It’s not like you have nothing to gain from this! If you take me home and help take my shopping indoors, I might consider ordering a pizza from you tonight. Depending on how I feel later, of course.”

(By this point, the lights have been green for a while. The cars behind me are honking their horns and the drivers are expressing themselves with rather rude gestures.)

Me: “Madam, I really don’t have time to explain this! I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can give you a lift! You’re going to have to travel home some other way!”

(The lady stares agape before scowling, grabbing her bags and leaving, slamming my car door as hard as she can. I take my delivery as normal. When I return to the shop, my manager pulls me aside.)

Manager: “So, we got a complaint about a straggly young man that wouldn’t take a tired woman with her heavy bags of shopping home?”

Me: “Oh, she rang up, did she? Did she say how she got in my car at a traffic light, knowing full well I was a pizza man?”

Manager: “Actually, yeah. But don’t worry; I talked some sense into her.”

Me: “Oh? You explained how we’re not insured to do that?”

Manager: *raises an eyebrow* “No. I explained how, if she rides in your car to [Town], all her shopping would stink of pizza for months. She asked why you didn’t just say so, and hung up. Okay, back to work.”

(And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you become a good manager.)

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