Never Getting Sick Of Pizza

, , , , | Hopeless | March 21, 2017

(A family in our neighborhood has recently returned from Disney World, where their unvaccinated children contracted measles. Even after showing symptoms, they continue to go to the store, school, church, etc., until they finally went to the doctor and the Health Department put them in quarantine. Unfortunately, by this point, half the neighborhood has been exposed, including my infant son, who is far too young to receive the MMR yet. My husband also can’t find his vaccination records, so we are also quarantined in our home for 3 weeks — the usual length of time by which symptoms will show.)

Me: *two weeks into quarantine* “I would kill for a pizza right now.”

Husband: “Me, too. I’d commit any number of unspeakable crimes for some pepperoni.”

Me: “I wonder if there’s a way for them to deliver without breaking quarantine?”

Husband: “I don’t know.”

Me: *starts dialing* “Only one way to find out. Hello? I have kind of a strange request.”

Employee: “Ooookay?”

Me: “You know the measles outbreak? We were exposed, so we’re quarantined in our home. Don’t worry, no signs of anything wrong, but it’s better to be safe. But we’re dying for some pizza.”

Employee: “Man, that sucks! I’m sorry.”

Me: “Thanks. Is there anyway we could pay everything, including tip, on the card in advance, and have your driver just leave the pies on the trunk of our car outside? Then I can grab them after he leaves, so we don’t risk breaking the quarantine.”

Employee: “Yeah, we can make that work. Let me just make a note…” *silence for a few moments* “Okay, so what kind of pizza do you want?”

Me: *orders a couple of pizzas, a bottle of soda, breadsticks, etc.* “Thank you so much!”

Employee: “No prob. That should be there in about half an hour. Let us know if you need anything else. Hope you get out soon!”

(Thirty minutes later, my phone rings.)

Driver: “Hi! You ordered pizza a la car, right?”

Me: “Yeah, that’s us.”

Driver: “Okay. Your order is on the trunk of the [describes car] with the [license plate]. Is that right?”

Me: “Yes! Thanks. You don’t know how much we appreciate this!”

Driver: “It’s not a bother. I’ve pulled out and I’m down the road. Please come out and check your pizzas and let me know if there’s a problem. Bye!” *hangs up*

(I quickly stepped out and checked the pizzas. They were correct, and there was a note on a second, extra bottle of soda, wishing us luck from everyone at the store. I looked up to see the driver grinning like a fool. She gave me two thumbs up, mouthed “It’s going to be okay!”, and drove off. Thanks, pizza folks, for making a scary and stressful time a little more bearable!)

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