Living In Her Own Pizza Pie In The Sky

| UT, USA | Right | May 28, 2014

Me: “Thank you for calling [Pizza Place]. Will this be for take out or delivery?”

Customer: “Hi. Um, can I get a large pizza with pepperoni, sausage, olives—”

Me: “Yes. I just need to know if you will be coming to pick this up, or if you would like to have it delivered?”

Customer: “Yes.”

(The customer proceeds to order food without telling me if it’s for take-out or delivery which is info that we need to take the order. To make things worse just at that moment my computer freezes making it impossible to take an order.)

Customer: “… and I would also like to add a salad on to that order—”

(The customer continues to order food at light speed as I try to interject.)

Me: “Ma’am, I need you to hold on for a second.”

(The customer is completely oblivious to everything I’m saying, and continues to order.)

Me: “Miss, I need you to hang on for just a second. My computer froze and I am unable to take your order for a moment.”

Customer: ” Okay, I think that’s everything. How much will the total be?”

(I am completely dumbfounded by this woman.)

Me: “I’m sorry. I have to put you on hold. Hang on for one moment.”

(I put the woman on hold and notify my manager that one of the computers has frozen. I proceed to take the order on another computer but when I take the phone off hold I find that the customer has hung up. 15 seconds or so pass and the phone rings again. This time my coworker answers the call.)

Coworker: “Thank you for calling [Pizza Place]. Will this be for take-out or delivery?”

Customer: “Hi. Yes. Um, I just called in and your phone person hung up on me. We had the order paid for and everything.”

(Never in my life have I dealt with a more oblivious person.)

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The Manager Just Got Burned

| NJ, USA | Working | May 25, 2014

(There’s a local branch of a nationwide pizza chain that, surprisingly, ACTUALLY makes the best pizza in town. However, a new store manager has come in lately and since then, things have been a little wonky, like toppings missing or the wrong sizes being made. This happened last night when I call and ask to talk to the manager.)

Me: “I just ordered three large with extra cheese from you guys, and two of them are fine but one is completely burnt.

Manager: “No, it isn’t.”

Me: “Yeah, it is. Two of them are perfect golden brown, but one is darker than the table it’s sitting on with great big burnt-black bubbles in the crust and cheese.”

Manager: “Nope.”

Me: “What do you mean, ‘nope’?”

Manager: “We cook all our pizzas the same. It’s in a set oven on a timer.”

Me: “Then obviously something went wrong with this one. I’d like it replaced.”

Manager: “I’m not going to replace a perfectly fine pizza. You just want a free one.”

Me: “How about I come down and SHOW YOU the burnt one, and if it’s burnt you’re refunding my ENTIRE order?”

Manager: “It’s not burnt!”

(At this point I hang the phone up, grab the obviously burnt pizza, and head down to the shop. The other three people working there all agreed it was burned and get to work on a replacement, but the manager suddenly storms out.)

Manager: “DON’T YOU GIVE HIM A THING. That pizza’s fine!”

Clerk: “Um, no, it’s not. LOOK at this!”

Manager: “Yeah. It’s properly cooked!”

Clerk: “No, it’s NOT. It’s completely burned!”

Manager: “Look, I’ve been doing this for 10 years. This is why I keep telling you people to watch the pizzas. You keep undercooking them, then I have to fix them!”

Clerk #2: “Wait a minute. YOU’VE been overcooking them!?”

Manager: “No, I’ve been FIXING them!”

(At this point the first clerk took me aside, promised me a fresh pie ASAP, and refunded my bill without even asking me. It turned out the manager was pushing his personal preference off on the customers and they were getting five to ten calls a night to fix burnt pizzas!)

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Ramping Up Your Demands

| Ann Arbor, MI, USA | Working | April 25, 2014

(I had been in a very bad accident. Both my legs are broken and I am using a wheelchair for months. Because of this, we have to have a wheelchair ramp installed on our house temporarily. We have ordered pizza for delivery. The delivery driver rings the doorbell and my husband answers.)

Driver: *to my husband, although he can see me clearly in the wheelchair in the room behind him* “Hey! I don’t like that ramp you had installed! It’s too hard to walk up it!”

Me: “At least you can walk!”

(The driver immediately shuts up and leaves.)

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Delivering Some Stupidity

| Calgary, AB, Canada | Working | February 17, 2014

(My sister is visiting from Edmonton, so she, her son, and our mother are all spending the weekend at my mother’s house. After a rough time getting my nephew to sleep, no one wants to risk waking the kid. We order pizza, and to ensure nothing goes wrong, I elect to wait on the front step with the money so the doorbell or the dogs flipping out won’t wake him. Finally, the car arrives.)

Me: “Ah, excellent. If you could just—”

Delivery Driver: “Excuse me. I need to deliver this.”

Me: “I know; I’m picking it up. I’ve got a baby that just went to sleep and two dogs who flip at anything with a pulse inside, so I’m here to pay and take the pizza.”

Delivery Driver: “I have no proof you live here. You could just take the pizza and leave.” *continues to push past me*

Me: “Dude, wait! Seriously, you make any noise and you’ll wake the baby!”

Delivery Driver: “I can’t trust you.”

Me: “I’ll prove I live here. I’ll let myself in.” *gets up, opens the door, and steps in*

Delivery Driver: *rings the doorbell*

(On cue, I now have two energetic dogs at the front door barking their heads off, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of my nephew, awake and cranky, seconds later.)

Me: “The pizza will be cold before we get to eat it now. Thanks.”

Delivery Driver: “I didn’t know! If you had said something!”

Me: “I did. Twice.”

(I proceed to pay for the pizza.)

Delivery Driver: “Where is my tip?”

Me: “Sorry, I can’t hear you. Someone woke the baby.” *closes the door*

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No Thick Crust For Crusty Old Bigots

| GA, USA | Right | January 30, 2014

(A regular at our restaurant comes in while I’m working the register. He’s about 60 and always smells like alcohol. He isn’t the nicest person. It is my first time dealing with him.)

Me: “Hi there! What can I get for you?”

(The regular walks the length of the counter, making sure he can see everyone in the back making pizzas.)

Me: “Sir? Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?”

Regular: “Sausage pizza.”

Me: “Okay. That’ll be [price].”

Regular: *pointing* “Is HE gonna cut it?”

Me: “Who?”

(The regular jabs his finger towards the 19-year-old coworker cutting the pizzas. He happens to be our only black employee.)

Me: “Yes, sir. That’s his assigned station for the day. Is that a problem?”

Regular: “If he’s gon’ touch it, I don’t want it.” *walks out*

Manager: “What happened? Did he order anything?”

Me: “No. He said he didn’t want it if [Coworker] was gonna cut it.”

Manager: “Hey, [Coworker]. Do you know that guy?”

Coworker: “Nope. Never seen him in my life.”

Manager: “Wow. I knew he was a little rude but I didn’t know he was racist.”

Me: “Why do we keep serving him?”

Manager: “We’re not allowed to refuse service to anyone, according to company policy, unless he ‘physically or verbally assaults an employee or customer.'”

(A few days pass until the regular comes in again. My coworker is working again, cutting pizzas, and I’m the cashier. My manager isn’t there.)

Me: *with a friendly customer service voice and huge smile* “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t serve your kind here.”

(The regular stares at me, confused. I just keep beaming that smile at him. Eventually he mumbles some racist and sexist slurs and walks out.)

Coworker: “HAVE A NICE DAY!”

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