I decide to order a pizza. Originally, I was going to pick it up myself from a place right down the block, but I discover I’ve left it too late, and this close to closing, they aren’t answering the phone for new orders. So, I order a pizza from a place a little further away; I order online and opt for delivery.
For whatever reason, delivery drivers have a hard time with my apartment complex, especially the fact that my side of the complex is served by only one gate off the main entrance — where there’s a keypad for secure entry — while the other side has both that gate (which is often kept open lately for plumbing work) and an exit-only gate opening onto another road. If the delivery drivers aren’t going through the already-open gate and going the wrong way before looking for my building, they’re sneaking through the exit-only gate the other way, which means they’ll never actually get in front of my building; they’d have to go back out and then in again as directed.
Since this is pretty much always the case, I always leave really detailed instructions on the order form when I submit it. “Enter from [Road], use code [number], and go right/east through Gate #1, and it’s the building directly ahead at the end of the lot,” etc. I do that tonight, and, as usual, add a decent driver tip at checkout.
At the very end of the delivery window, when the tracker has shown the driver at my apartment complex for at least ten minutes, I get a phone call.
Driver: “This is [Pizza Chain]. Is this [My Name]?”
Me: “That’s me.”
Driver: “Hey, I’ve got your pizza. I’ve been driving around, but I can’t find your building.”
Me: “Oh, did you not get the instructions I added to the order?”
Driver: “No, I did, but I didn’t come in the way you said.”
Me: “Ah, that’s the problem; if you come in through the other gate, it doesn’t connect, so you have to come out and back in through Gate #1.”
There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence as I wait for him to acknowledge this; the moment stretches out for way too long. Finally…
Driver: “So, I’m out by the pool. Are you gonna come to get your pizza?”
Me: “All right, I’m headed your way. Just hang on a moment.”
I slip my shoes on and head down two flights of stairs and all the way across the parking lot. The pool is right behind the leasing office, in the middle of the complex, bordered by blocks of apartments on three sides with parking lots on the other side of all three, so I’m not sure exactly where I’m heading, but he’s still on the phone.
Me: “Which side of the pool are you on?”
Driver: “I’m right by the gate.”
I head out to the front gates, looking for his car. The gates are up by the leasing office, so I take that sidewalk, and there’s a car out there, but the young lady behind the wheel backs out, heads for the exit, and drives away. I keep going and head around the corner, not seeing anybody. The driver is still on the phone, but he hasn’t said anything in a good minute and a half. I come across another car in the middle of the parking lot, but it’s standing open with no one in sight.
Me: “I’m sorry, where did you say you were?”
Driver: “Did you come out to the pool?”
Surely not, I think, but I cut through building eight and discovered that he had, in fact, left his car in the parking and lot and decided he would randomly wait for me leaning against the walk-gate into the actual pool enclosure… which I’m sure wasn’t at all creepy and threatening for the two young girls swimming by themselves.
Sometimes I think online ordering needs to let you decrease a tip retroactively. At least the pizza was good.
