The (Pizza) Pie Is A Lie

, , , | Working | September 8, 2017

(I have been working long days, as it’s the busiest time at work. I get home 14 hours after I left that morning, and decide to treat myself to an internationally known pizza chain that lets you track the order. I order online and watch the tracker tell me that the order is on its way. Then it says delivered, but I have no pizza. I ring the branch.)

Me: “Hi, I ordered online about an hour ago, and the order tracker says it’s been delivered, but it hasn’t arrived. “

Employee: “What’s the order number?”

Me: *gives order number*

Employee: “Okay, hold on.”

(I wait. And wait. And wait some more. When I’m about to hang up and retry he comes back on the phone.)

Employee: “Okay, so it looks like we haven’t even made it yet.”

Me: “What?!”

Employee: “Yeah, sorry, I looked everywhere for your order, and it was on the floor among the old receipts.”

Me: “…right, it’s been over an hour now, I’ve already paid for this online. I just want what I ordered.”

Employee: “Well, I’ll put the order in now, but we’re really busy, so you’ll be looking at an hour, hour and a half wait, okay? We have orders to make before this one.”

Me: “No, that is not okay. I just paid nearly £22 for a pizza that you’re saying will now be another hour and a half wait? Even though I ordered this an HOUR before the ones you’re cooking now? You won’t prioritise this since you admit it’s your fault?”

Employee: “Nope, you’ll have to wait.”

Me: “You think waiting two and a half hours for a pizza is acceptable?”

Employee: “Well, what do you wanna do? Come pick it up if you’re that bothered!”

Me: “I don’t have a car, and you’re on the other side of town, plus I have ALREADY PAID a delivery fee over an hour ago when I ordered this pizza!”

(I demanded a refund and made myself a sandwich. I have never ordered anything from there since, and never will again.)

Breaking The Code

, , , , | Working | August 29, 2017

One of the local pizza chains (which I’d been ordering from twice a month or so for years, and the only complaint I had was that they sometimes delivered too fast and I had to oven the pizza for a few minutes) was sending deals via (opt-in) text message, and one of these was insanely good – don’t remember the details, but it worked out to something like 60% off. I online-ordered ten pizzas for a party.

The pizza arrived, and the driver demanded to know where I got the code, and when I refused to pull out my phone to show him the message (I was trying to juggle ten large pizzas, money, and assorted sides at the time, and the phone was in the other room), he responded with, “That’s what I thought – my manager told me to tell you never to pull that s*** again.”

The food was perfectly fine, but I was filling out the complaint form before the driver reached the main street. Never got a reply back – but when I ordered again a few weeks later, the driver (who I’d never seen before) was visibly terrified, and I found out that this was because, “last time we delivered to this house, three or four people got fired.”

Even Spelling It Out For You Needs Spelling Out

, , | Working | August 29, 2017

(I am ordering pizza. I live in a slightly out-of-the-way place, and the address format is a little odd, so we often have trouble with it. However, never before have I had this much trouble.)

Operator: “Okay, do you live in a house or a flat?”

Me: “Flat. It’s flat [Letter].”

Operator: “Okay.”

Me: “And the building is C2B.”

Operator: “Can you spell that?”

Me: “Spell it?”

Operator: “Yes.”

Me: “… C2B.”

Operator: “Spell it, please. Do you mean C for cat?”

Me: “Yes, C for cat. C2–”

Operator: “2 for umbrella?”

Me: “Two, for the number 2.”

Operator: “… the number 2?”

Me: “Yes. C for cat, two for the number 2, B for boy.”

Operator: “All right. So, you live on street C2B.”

Me: “C2B is the building. My street is [Street].”

Operator: “Can you spell that?”

(I proceed to spell the entire street for the operator.)

Operator: “All right, so the street is [Street] and the flat is [Flat]. Which building are you in?”

Me: “C2B.”

Operator: “Can you spell that?”

Acting Totally Incremental

| TX, USA | Right | October 15, 2013

(I am out on delivery late at night. The customer to whom I am delivering has been very drunk on the phone. When I arrive at his house, he stumbles outside to meet me, pulling out his wallet. A girl follows him outside.)

Me: “Mr. [Name]?”

Drunken Customer: “Yep, that’s me.”

Me: “Here you are, sir! Your total this evening will be $46.70!”

Drunken Customer: “Okay. Here you go.”

(The customer hands me $70.)

Me: “Of course, sir; let me get your change.”

(I hand back a twenty dollar bill and three ones, but he won’t take it.)

Drunken Customer: “Nope. No change. That’s your $5 tip right there.”

Me: “Um, yes, sir, I appreciate it very much, but—”

Drunken Customer: “No, no, no. Listen. 46 and whatever is like 47, right?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Drunken Customer: “Well, fifty minus forty-seven is this three, right?” *points to the three $1 bills*

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Drunken Customer: “That leaves the two and the zero.” *points at the $20 bill* “And two plus zero is two, and then plus the other $3, and two plus three is five, and that’s your $5 tip!”

Girl: “Just take it and go. He thinks he’s good at math when he’s drunk.”

Me: “Thank you very much, sir! Have a wonderful evening!”

Drunken Customer: “Don’t spend all your $5 in one place!”

(He is the best tipping customer of the night! When I get back to the store, my manager can’t believe how thoroughly the customer explained his math!)

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Hold The Garlic Bread

| NY, USA | Right | August 1, 2013

(I work the late shift at a pizza parlor, and am taking over delivery for a sick coworker instead of working the register as I usually do. I cycle up to the apartment that’s listed on the bill and knock on their door. The customer doesn’t answer so I knock harder.)

Me: “Your pizza’s here!”

(The door slowly creaks open. The lights are all off, almost like a horror movie, and I take a step back in surprise.)

Me: “Uhm… hello?”

(Unnerved, I turn to get the heck out of there, when I hear something moving. I look back in the house, and some guy is standing there, nearly invisible in the dark.)

Me: “Oh, haha, I didn’t see you there. Here’s your pizza, sir. You ordered online, so you’re good to go!”

Customer: “Who darez to tahlk to ze Count in zees mannehr?!”

(I realize that he’s wearing a full Dracula costume, complete with bloody fangs and a cape. He’s staring at me with Bela Lugosi’s signature death glare.)

Me: “Uh… Frank, the pizza delivery guy?”

Customer: “…”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Dihd you breeng extra ov zee leetle sauce packeets for ze breedsteecks?”

Me: “Uh… yeah, yeah, they should be in the box.”

Customer: “Exceeleent! Have a vunderful night, my child!”

(The customer slams the door closed.)

Me: “What just happened?”

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