I’ll Have A Black Hole Pizza With A Side Of Nothing

, , , , , | Working | March 2, 2019

My girlfriend and I and our flatmate decided to pop in for a pizza. It was a quiet night, and we decided to eat in. A round of drinks was ordered and delivered, and a pizza was ordered. Then came the waiting…

And the waiting…

After about thirty minutes, in a quiet restaurant, only three other tables occupied, still no pizza. We called over a staff member and asked politely about the whereabouts of our meal. He said that he would look into it.

Five minutes later, he returned to our table to tell us that our pizza was “lost”! Apparently, somewhere between the kitchen and our table, our pizza had mysteriously vanished into another dimension or something. It may have made its way to the pizza buffet instead of being delivered to our table as ordered. That’s cool — mistakes happen — so he tells us that another pizza is being made and will be delivered as soon as it’s ready. Meanwhile, more drinks are ordered, and we are told that our pizza will be free of charge.

Fair enough, mistake made, rectified, compensation of free pizza, and we’re in no hurry, so we settle down and wait…

And wait…

And wait some more…

Another twenty minutes pass, which is a long time to wait for a pizza that is being made especially for us to replace the earlier lost pizza, so again, we inquire politely of our waiting staff, paraphrasing Oliver Twist, “Please, Sir, may we have some?” A look of horror crosses his face, and he beats the well-worn path to the kitchen.

He returns very swiftly, and sadly empty-handed. He comes straight to the point and says, “I don’t really know how to tell you this, but we’ve lost your second pizza!” He then tells us that a third pizza is being made for us, and that he is going to physically stand next to it, and that as soon as it is ready, he will personally grab it, and deliver it to us.  

Which he does. It’s taken over an hour for one pizza to be successfully delivered the twenty or so feet from the pizza oven to our table! As he delivers the pizza, he is accompanied by the manager of the restaurant. The manager apologises for the apparent black hole in his kitchen, and asks that at the end of the meal we ask for him at the counter.

So, we eat, finally, and at least the pizza is fresh and hot, and quite tasty. After the meal, we go up to the counter and ask to see the manager. The manager comes out to us and apologises again. He asks the cashier for our bill, which he then just tears in half, chucks in the bin, and thanks us for not being d**ks about it.

Still not sure where the pizzas went!

What Is In That Beer And How Do We Get Some?

, , , , | Right | March 2, 2019

(I work in a bottle shop in a suburb posh enough to be somewhat isolated. People can be a little uptight around here, so my being naturally chatty and friendly seems to break down some barriers. It has been a slow winter’s night, especially as I’m the only one working. A man walks in as I’m trying to find something to listen to on the radio. He seems stone-cold sober. He walks up to the counter with a pricey bottle of European beer. As I’m ringing him up, I start chatting.)

Me: “Gosh, there’s absolutely nothing on the radio!”

Customer: “Oh, mate, is there ever anything on the TV, either?”

Me: “Not at the moment.”

(I refer to a TV used to advertise specials in the store, currently turned off, thinking that this guy will give some good banter. The joke goes way over his head.)

Customer: “You see, the government, right, they just want to dumb you down like… with what’s on the radio and stuff… like, what they want to do is, like, they can’t go door to door, right?”

(While not as passionate about what he is trying to say, the guy is… interesting, to say the least. He seems pretty eloquent, so I coax more out of him.)

Me: “Like… with what we watch?”

Customer: “Yeah, with, like, what’s on the TV and the radio. They just want to dumb us down. It’s not like they can go door to door dumbing us one by one, so they, like…”

Me: *still weirdly interested* “They, like… target the whole collective?”

Customer: “Yeah, exactly… You have a good night.”

(He walked out of the store. I heard the bottle cap of the expensive beer bottle clink to the ground, and he walked off. I sat dumbfounded for a minute, unsure why exactly the government wants to dumb us down, or how I triggered that exchange.)

Falling And Failing

, , , , , , , | Right | March 2, 2019

(I’m a young woman in my late twenties — though I do look younger — walking home one evening. I pass a woman, vaguely noting there’s a boy, maybe twelve or so, behind her heading in my direction. As I walk past, the boy suddenly falls. I start to bend towards him, to help him up.)

Boy: “Sorry, I just fell for you.”

(I can’t help laughing as he stands up, thinking he’s saying it to save face.)

Me: “Very smooth.”

Boy: “So, how about it?”

(I shake my head and start to head on, now assuming it’s a joke)

Boy: “I’ll take you to [Coffee Shop]!”

(I laugh, shake my head, and keep walking.)

Boy: “F***. Why doesn’t it ever work?”

(I’m still in two minds as to how serious I thought he was being, though I’m fairly sure it was a joke. I decided not to suggest that if he is going to go for random strangers, he might want to try someone who’s not over twice his age!)

You Almost Need A Club To Walk To The Nightclub At Night

, , , , , , | Friendly | March 1, 2019

(I get a call to go and pick up my very independent girlfriend from a nightclub because her overprotective work friends won’t let her leave without either getting in a taxi or having me come pick her up. The club is roughly a ten-minute walk from the house. I start to head to the club, carrying only keys, and clock a stranger on the other side of the road. He is walking in the opposite direction until he spots me and crosses over. I am rather tall and, according to my girlfriend, rather intimidating… until I open my mouth, because of my posh accent. I am always wary of people, as I was bullied at school by short people wanting to pick a fight, wanting to make their mark.)

Stranger: “Hey there!”

(He starts walking in the direction I am going, walking fairly quickly to try and keep pace. I am crossing a long bridge without any possible escape routes, putting me on edge.)

Stranger: “Where are you going?”

Me: *still walking, but determined to remain polite and non-provocative* “[Nightclub].”

Stranger: “Meeting someone special?”

(There is a creepy tone in his voice, which makes me even more wary.)

Me: “Yep.”

Stranger: “It’s a girl, right?” *gives a cocky grin* “I’m going there, too! Let’s get a taxi!”

Me: *thinking how he was initially walking north when the club was south, setting off more alarm bells* “I’m all right, mate; it’s not far.”

Stranger: “I don’t mind. We’ll get a taxi!”

Me: “You can get one if you want, but I don’t have any cash on me. It’s not far, though.”

Stranger: “Don’t worry; I’ll pay for it!”

(We get to the end of the bridge as he repeatedly tries to get me to flag down a taxi. I carry on down one side of the road whilst he starts to cross over to the other. My route involves crossing a road south, then going east; his route involves going east and then crossing the road to go south.)

Stranger: “Where are you going, mate? It’s this way!”

Me: “I’m going this way. Have a good evening!”

Stranger: “It’s this way, [gay slur]!”

(He continued walking his way to the nightclub, which was retracing the direction he originally came from. I can only assume he wanted to stiff me for a taxi fare. As it was so close, it was not worth getting a taxi to go a distance of two streets.)

Going Hell For Pleather On These Sales

, , , | Right | February 28, 2019

(I work in a fabric store. I get a phone call from a customer looking for pleather. He asks for white, but upon finding out we don’t have that, he asks what other colours we have. We have every colour but red. Later on, a man arrives in the store asking for pleather. He chooses the black one.)

Me: “Did you happen to ring a little while ago asking for this?”

Customer #2: “No, it wasn’t me.”

Me: “Okay. It’s funny; I don’t often get asked for it, but I got asked twice in the last half hour. It often goes like that.”

Customer #2: “Really?”

Me: “Yeah, but it’s always in threes; there will be a third sometime today.”

Customer #2: *laughs* “Good luck with that.”  

(It’s the end of the day and I have shut the doors when a customer knocks on the door. We’ve closed an hour and a half earlier than usual due to it being a public holiday. I go to the door to explain to the customer why we are closed early. He is there with his young son.)

Customer #3: “Oh, no, we really need to get something. Can’t you help us?”

Me: “We are closed but I will try. What is it you are after?”

Customer #3: “I need pleather; do you have it in red?”

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