Unfiltered Story #158667

, , , | Unfiltered | December 1, 2019

(In 1989, I’d taken a night job delivering pizza at one of the most popular franchises. I caught on quickly to the delivery aspect. When drivers returned from their deliveries, they’re relegated to box folding, dish washing, or some other menial task. The manager has hired specific employees to answer phones. One evening, I’ve returned from a delivery and am standing right next to a phone. It rings, and I instinctively answer.)

Manager: *gasps*

Me: “Thank you for calling [Pizza Store]. This is [My Name]; how may I help you?”

(I continue to take the customer’s order on the paper form that we used at the time. After I finish, my manager congratulates me for a perfect call, especially when I hadn’t been trained for answering phones. Within a month, I’ve been promoted to be the store’s official driver trainer. About a year later, my manager has been transferred to another store in our franchisee’s group. It happens to be the busiest store in the world, situated in the middle of the office complexes of military contractors, just south of The Pentagon. One evening, he’s short drivers, and calls my new manager and asks if I can work for him that evening. I deliver for him for about an hour, when I’m waiting in the store for my next delivery. The phone rings, but there are about a dozen people between me and the phone bank. I shrug it off and figure one of them will answer, but nobody does. I then see my manager giving me an “answer the phone” gesture. So I fight my way through the others and answer the phone.)

Me: Thank you for calling [Pizza Store]. This is [my name]; how may I help you?”

(After taking the order, my manager waves me over.)

Manager: “I didn’t get a chance to let you know, but all of those other drivers don’t speak English. So if you hear a phone, please jump on it.”

Unfiltered Story #158666

, , , | Unfiltered | December 1, 2019

(I am delivering packages to the receiving room of a company. A woman comes out as I’m about to go in, and since the door is next to the receiver I have to move to let her out. She decides to get in front of me to pick up her package like I’m not there.)

She: I’m busy, have things to do

Me: me too and I was here first

Receiver: I will take care of him first

She moved out of the way thinking what to say for the next 2-3 minutes that it took to receive the packages

She: so, if you had 200 packages I would still had to wait

Me: yes

She: I was in a hurry, I had to go to work

Me: and I’m working and I got here first. Bye

Lady, just because you have money doesn’t mean that you can just cut in front of the brown man without asking nicely

Your Excuses Carry No Currency

, , , , , | Legal | November 21, 2019

(My daughter is a driver for a restaurant delivery company and is delivering a meal.)

Daughter: “Hi. I have your food. The total is [price].”

Customer: “I paid with a card already.”

Daughter: “I’m sorry, but the order says ‘cash.’ I have to collect that from you before I hand it over.”

Customer: “I tell you, I paid cash.”

Daughter: “Okay, that’s fine. Let me see your receipt.”

Customer: “It’s on my phone.”

Daughter: “Yes, I know. If you can show me, I can give you the food.”

Customer: “My phone is dead. It needs to charge.”

Daughter: “That’s fine. I can wait a few minutes so you can show me.”

Customer: “Just give me my food and I’ll show you when it’s charged.”

Daughter: “No, sorry. I need the receipt first.”

Customer: “F*** you!” *slams door shut*

Daughter: *to the closed door* “I thought so.”

(The customer got a permanent ban on ordering. You have to wonder just how stupid someone has to be to have the capacity to use a telephone, yet think it’s a bright idea to rip off others while giving a real name, address, and phone number.)

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Making Progress In Making Her Understand

, , , , , | Right | November 21, 2019

(At the pizza delivery place where I work, when customers order online, there is a system that shows them the progress of their order, from cooking to dispatch as we do it in the kitchen. It does this automatically, but occasionally, it stops working and needs someone to press a button to start it, but depending on how busy we are, we don’t always notice. It doesn’t affect the order but some customers seem to rely on it. One night, I get a call from our delivery driver who says he has a customer who won’t pay for her order.)

Driver: “She won’t accept the pizza; she says it’s not hers as hers hasn’t been made yet.”

Me: “Ma’am, I can assure you that the order the driver has in his hands is exactly what you ordered.”

Customer: “I’m telling you, my pizza hasn’t even been put into the oven yet!”

Me: “Ma’am, I cooked the pizza myself and boxed it and handed it to the driver who is at your door right now.”

Customer: “Now I know you’re lying! You didn’t say you had gone through quality control before you dispatched the pizza!”

Me: “Ma’am, please confirm what you ordered and what time you ordered it for me.”

Customer: “I ordered an XL deep-pan meat feast with extra cheese at 8:30 pm.”

Me: “And who did you speak to when you ordered the pizza?”

Customer: “No one. I did it online.”

Me: *suddenly catching on* “And do you have the progress screen on your computer now, ma’am?”

Customer: “Yes, and I can see you haven’t even started my order!”

(I check my screen and sure enough, the button to start the progress needs pushing. I push it and the computer rushes through each stage until it is marked as dispatched. This takes about ten seconds.)

Me: “If you look on your screen now, you’ll see I have expedited your order and it’s been dispatched to you. The driver has your pizza for you now, ma’am. We’re sorry about the delay.”

Customer: *takes pizza from driver* “That’s okay. I appreciate the quick delivery!”

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Coming To A Speedy Resolution  

, , , , , , | Right | November 1, 2019

(I work in a pizza delivery store. The people I work with are great; it’s like a small family. We have a customer who is semi-regular, ordering every three weeks or so, but she always gets delivery. She lives twenty minutes out of town but pays an extra $5 on top for us to deliver to her. For the past three orders, she has called the store to complain about her pizza being cold, so this time the owner made, cooked, cut, sauced, and delivered it himself to make sure it was right. Sure enough, she calls again and this is one side of the conversation.)

Owner: “Well, ma’am, I am sorry that you feel that way… Yes, yes, it was… Yes, I did that all myself… No, there is no one higher up than me; I’m the owner… There is no corporate… What would you like me to do, ma’am?… I’d suggest that you come get it yourself if that’s the problem… Yes, I know you pay extra to get it delivered… I’m not going to ask my staff to speed for you… Hang on.”

(He starts searching on the computer.)

Owner: “Okay, ma’am, for an extra $390 I can get it to you in ten minutes… Well, that’s the going price of a speeding ticket… I’m sorry you feel that way… I am going to write a note saying we won’t deliver to you anymore… Goodbye, ma’am.”

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