We’ve had three days of snow, and I have been quarantined since Tuesday for possible exposure to [contagious illness]. Needless to say, I’m tired of cooking, I’m tired of cleaning, I’m tired of working remotely with my Internet going down off and on due to the weather.

So, I’m pissed off, tired, and hangry, and I could not give a rat’s a** about cooking tonight. Pizza delivery it is.

We don’t eat out often, and delivery in my rural northeastern frozen state is limited, to say the least. There are no delivery app services up ’round these parts, so if the few pizza joints in these parts don’t offer delivery, you are s*** outta luck unless you wanna suit up and warm up the four-wheel drive.

Thankfully, there are two, and I pull up my handy dandy app for the only one that is a franchise and put in my order for delivery.

Due to the size of my household and everyone needing some sort of special request, I end up ordering about $100 worth of pizzas, wings, breadsticks, and extra sauces — the works.

I pay by card, request contactless delivery, and put $20 for the tip on my card. Then, I stare at the app constantly for delivery time. Did I mention I was hangry?

After twenty minutes, I see my order is out for delivery. I go to put the outside light on, and then I see it: snow, sleet, freezing rain, high wind. All of the above, all of a sudden. And I’m making this poor person deliver my food.

I hurry and put $40 in an envelope, tape it to the front door, and wait.

The delivery driver makes it up the snowy, icy driveway, brings my hot food to my door, and places it on the front step. I thank him through the glass door and point to the envelope taped on the door, motioning that it is for him.

I can see the smile under his mask through his eyes as he takes the envelope.

Driver: *Yelling through the door* “Thank you! Have a fabulous evening!”

I hope you do, too, my friend. Be safe, and thank you.

I occasionally take advantage of fast food coupons and indulge in stuff way off my diet. I got in the drive-thru for the place that has one of my favorite french fries and waited, along with the three cars ahead of me. Note that this was before the normal lunch rush, as I also hate waiting.

I waited.

And waited.

At first, I thought the customer at the order stand was just taking an abnormally long time and got frustrated with that customer. But it continued with every customer after the first. I realized that it was a staffing issue, not a customer issue.

When I finally got to the window to make my order, my anger had cooled; I’ve gotten food from this place lots of times and have gotten great service and accurate orders, and staffing issues happen.

Me: “Short-staffed today?”

Worker: “Yeah, just two of us here.”

I looked at my wallet and thought, “You know what? I can afford to help out here.” After getting my order, I checked to see if my receipt was there. It wasn’t.

Me: “Can I have the receipt?”

Worker: “Here you go.”

As she handed me the receipt, I handed her a twenty.

Me: “Tip.”

Worker: “No way!”

Me: “Yes way.”

Worker: “Thank you so much!”

And I was glad I could help out a couple of frazzled fast food workers as I drove off.

Related:
Tipped To Be A Good Day, Part 3
Tipped To Be A Good Day, Part 2
Tipped To Be A Good Day

Recently, my fast food store has added a new feature to earn points with orders. On our most recent “mystery shopper” audit, we lost some points for not asking if they’d like an appetizer, whether they had signed up for the points program, and whether they’d like to do so.

Our “service questions” are already bloated enough as is, but if we want to get a 100%, I’ll have to adapt to asking that. Sigh.

This is what transactions look like now.

Us: “Hello! How are you doing?”

Us: “For here or to go?”

Us: “Would you like a drink and appetizer?”

Us: *Rings up the order*

Us: “Are you part of our rewards membership?”

Us: “Are you interested in learning about it?”

If they say yes, we launch into a lengthy spiel about signing up for rewards: where to sign up, the fact that it’s free, how the points work, and what some occasional offers are.

Us: “Would you like any sauces?”

Us: “Have a good day!”

I miss the days when you could just check out the food and get going. Not a million questions to answer… or in my case, ask!

My boss told me this story. When his daughter was born, he filled out her registration form. Because he was sleep-deprived from being by his wife’s side through the birth, he made a huge mistake on the form. His daughter’s official birth certificate came back with this exact error, so he had to go down to the appropriate government office to get this corrected.

Father: “Hello. I’m here to correct my daughter’s birth certificate.”

Employee: “What seems to be the problem?”

Father: “It says here that my daughter was born on March 2nd, 03/02, of this year. She was actually born on February 3rd, 02/03.”

Employee: “Sir, we can’t change the date of birth on your daughter’s certificate. This is the information that the hospital provided to us. The only thing we can do is correct any spelling errors.”

Father: “Yeah, you got the form from the hospital, which was filled out by me. I was the one who made the mistake. It’s my fault, but I’m honestly surprised that the registration exchanged hands multiple times and nobody noticed. Also, how do you not have a contingency plan for this?”

Employee: “Sir, we make sure the forms are checked thoroughly.”

Father: “With all due respect, you’re telling me that my daughter was born on March 2nd. I was there at the hospital with my wife on February 3rd. The hospital records can prove that my wife was there on that date, and you’d be hard-pressed to find any entry records for March 2nd. Do you know why? It is still February now, as we speak! March hasn’t even happened yet! Is my daughter a time traveler?”

Employee: “Let me get my supervisor for you.”

I can’t fully remember what happened after this, other than that my boss was finally able to get his daughter’s birth certificate corrected. The bureaucracy was painful, all the same.

I stop at a new coffee shop in my area to check it out. The place seems decently busy, and from all appearances, everything seems to be flowing smoothly. The shop appears to use buzzer devices for orders that can’t be finished while the customer is at the counter.

I get to the counter and put in my order, and I get my buzzer. I then find a small table to set up and wait for the buzzer to go off. And wait… and wait… and wait.

After fifteen minutes and watching several customers who ordered after me get their orders and find tables or leave, I go back up to the counter with my buzzer in my hand to ask about my order.

Cashier: “Welcome to [Shop]. What can I get for you today?”

Me: “I actually put in my order fifteen minutes ago, but I haven’t gotten it yet.”

Cashier: “What was your order?”

I tell her what my order was.

Cashier: “Oh, that? We threw it away when you didn’t respond to the buzzer.”

Me: “The buzzer never went off, though.”

Cashier: *Starting to get snippy* “We rang the buzzer. Did you put it in your backpack or a pocket or something? Maybe you just didn’t hear it or see the light flashing.”

Me: “No, I put it on the table right next to my laptop. It never went off. Anyway, can I please get my order remade?”

Cashier: *Entering my order into the computer* “Okay, that’ll be [cost].”

Me: “Wait, no. I’m not going to pay again. I’ve been here this whole time, and the buzzer never went off. This is not my fault.”

Cashier: “I can’t give you free food. If you don’t know what the buzzer sounds like, I can show you so you’re ready this time.”

With that, the cashier checks the number on my buzzer — which is still in my hand — and hits a button on a console behind the counter. When the buzzer fails to go off, she pulls a deer-in-the-headlights face and hits the button a few more times.

Cashier: “What did you do to the buzzer?”

Me: “Nothing at all. It’s either been in my hand or sitting on the table the whole time.”

I handed the buzzer to her, and after a few looks, she opened the battery compartment, replaced the batteries, and hit the button again. Lo and behold, the buzzer worked now!

The cashier immediately apologized and promised to put my order in as a rush and at no cost (beyond what I had paid the first time). I still asked for a manager because of her attitude in blaming me rather than looking into any other possible explanations.

In the end, my order was good, but I still haven’t been to that coffee shop again yet.