One Incorrect Pizza With A Side Of Sting

My mother recently noticed that a new, locally-owned pizza place has popped up nearby in a direction we don’t travel very often. After some sleuthing, we discover that the place has been open for about a year, so we decide to set aside some time one Friday evening to check it out.

Things start out pretty normal at first: we’re seated and given our drinks and our orders are put in. Between the three of us, we order two appetizers and two 14″ pizzas; however, a solid fifteen minutes after ordering, our waitress reappears.

Waitress: “I’m so sorry, but we’ve run out of [signature topping for the pizza my mother ordered]. Would you like to order something else?”

My mother ends up ordering one of their vegetarian pizzas and opts to add two more veggies to it. And then we wait, and wait, and wait some more. Finally, after nearly forty minutes, our waitress comes back with some food and starts to set it on our table.

Waitress: “Here’s your meatball pizza and—”

Dad: “Uh, neither of those are ours. We haven’t even gotten our appetizers yet.”

Waitress: *Obviously confused* “Oh… I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

We watch her walk back to the kitchen with the food, presumably to recheck which table to bring it to. She then proceeds to bring it to a table on the complete opposite end of the restaurant. Whatever, mistakes happen.

We then wait nearly twenty more minutes with no sign of our appetizers or our waitress, so my dad finally gets fed up and goes to find out whether our order was even put in, to begin with.

Dad: “They said the appetizers are going to be out in a minute. I’m honestly almost ready to just walk out at this point.”

After more than an hour, we finally get our appetizers! But then my dad pokes into one of the appetizers and says:

Dad: “This isn’t eggplant.”

Mom: *Trying it* “Definitely not. I think it’s beef?”

We manage to flag down our waitress and explain it to her as she apologizes profusely.

Waitress: “I’m so sorry! [Dish we ordered] and [dish we got] both look almost the same unless you actually dig into them! They’re identical recipes except that one is made with eggplant and the other with meatballs.”

Dad: “It’s fine; we’ll still eat it. We just wanted to let you know that it wasn’t what we ordered.”

After our waitress has left:

Mom: “I think you’re being too nice about this.”

Dad: “It’s fine. It’s still good.”

Thankfully, our pizzas come out not much later, but the issues don’t stop. My pizza comes out fine, but for some reason, my mom’s vegetarian pizza has pepperoni on it. While she isn’t actually vegetarian, my mom definitely isn’t a fan of pepperoni so she is understandably very annoyed at this point.

Before we can decide what to do, our waitress appears holding a THIRD 14″ pizza.

Waitress: “Good news! The kitchen was apparently able to make you [the pizza my mother initially ordered], after all! Would you like me to box it for y’all?”

Dad cuts in before my mother can speak and points to the incorrect pizza.

Dad: “I’m going to be honest here: I’m very confused. But can you box that one, instead?”

Waitress: “Sure thing! And I’m sorry, sir, we’ve just hired on a bunch of new kitchen staff and they’re mostly all being trained this evening, so things are a bit hectic back there.”

Dad: *Sighing* “That’s all right. We just want to eat.”

However, it seems like the universe is deadset on giving us the middle finger this evening: upon opening one of our boxes to put away our leftovers, I notice there’s a MASSIVE WASP just chilling in it. Thankfully, none of us are particularly jumpy around bugs.

Me: *Pointing* “Uh, Dad? There’s a wasp.”

Of course, he immediately shuts the box and puts it on an empty table behind us just as our waitress comes back with our bill.

Me: “Excuse me. We got a, um, ‘friend’ in one of our boxes.”

Dad: *Gesturing to the box* “Yeah, don’t open that. There’s a wasp in it.”

Our waitress’s eyes go about as big as saucers and she gingerly picks up the wasp box.

Waitress: “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry! I’m going to throw this out in the dumpster immediately and bring you another one!”

Thankfully, that box is completely bug-free. By this point, we just can’t help but laugh at the overall absurdity of the evening.

Dad: *Studying our bill* “Well, we got that one appetizer and the third pizza for free, at least. We’ll just call it even and never, ever come back here again.”

Such a shame because the food itself was actually incredibly good, barring my mother’s incorrect pizza! The ridiculous wait and overall service were absolutely not worth it, though.