Found The Sauce Of His Infidelity

, , , , , | Working | January 17, 2018

(A coworker has just finished making a bucket of pizza sauce. In our store we make sure all product has a sticker listing the expiration date and time. A manager comes to talk with the coworker.)

Manager: “Hey, did you date the sauce?”

(Before [Coworker] can speak, I interject.)

Me: “Nope, he took it to one dinner and figured out they weren’t compatible.”

(Everyone laughs.)

Manager: *to coworker* “I’m going to tell your wife you’re cheating on her with a redhead.”

Me: “A robust, saucy redhead!”

Only Has One-Topping Brain Power

, , , , , , | Working | January 17, 2018

(I’m sitting beside my husband at home when he calls the nearby pizza restaurant to place an order. I can hear the whole exchange. It goes as follows.)

Husband: “Hello, I’d like to place an order for carry-out.”

Employee: “Okay. Is that for delivery?”

Husband: “No, I said, ‘Carry-out.’”

Employee: “What?”

Husband: “CARRY. OUT. You know, I’m going to place my order, go to your store, pay for my food, and CARRY IT OUT WITH ME!”

Employee: “…”

(My husband stares at me in disbelief. I try to whisper to him to tell the employee that it’s take-out, pick-up, or some other variant, but he can’t make out what I’m saying. Finally…)

Employee: “OH! You want to do take-out!”

(Predictably, the rest of the phone call doesn’t go much better.)

Husband: “Okay, so, for the first pizza, it’s your two-topping deal. I’m wondering if I can do double pepperoni for that.”

Employee: “And what do you want for your second topping?”

Husband: “No, listen. I’m asking you if I can do pepperoni for both toppings. So, put extra pepperoni. Lots of it. We want tons of pepperoni on the pizza.”

Employee: “But you get two toppings—”

Husband: *rolling his eyes* “You know what? Fine. Pepperoni and mushroom.”

(Unfortunately, there wasn’t another nearby pizza place we could switch to, so my husband went ahead and completed the order, but we haven’t gone back to that place since. Having worked in pizza myself, I’m not sure what was so difficult for this employee to grasp!)

Kicking Up A Stink

, , , , , , , | Right | January 16, 2018

(I work for a popular pizza delivery company. I am on my way to an address with an order. My car has got the light-up sign on top of it with the company logo on it. I have stopped at a traffic light when suddenly my rear passenger door opens. A lady I don’t recognise puts a whole load of shopping bags in before climbing in herself.)

Lady: “All right, I need to get to [town an hour’s drive away]. The address is…”

Me: “Whoa! Sorry, madam, but I’m not actually a taxi. I work for [Pizza Place].”

Lady: *looks at me like I’m crazy* “I know that! But you’re better than a taxi service! I’m sure you know the roads just as well, and I wouldn’t have to spend an extortionate amount of money, either!”

Me: “Madam, I’m not allowed to take passengers, and even if I could I never head to [Town]; it’s outside our delivery area!”

Lady: *huffy* “Well! It’s not like you have nothing to gain from this! If you take me home and help take my shopping indoors, I might consider ordering a pizza from you tonight. Depending on how I feel later, of course.”

(By this point, the lights have been green for a while. The cars behind me are honking their horns and the drivers are expressing themselves with rather rude gestures.)

Me: “Madam, I really don’t have time to explain this! I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can give you a lift! You’re going to have to travel home some other way!”

(The lady stares agape before scowling, grabbing her bags and leaving, slamming my car door as hard as she can. I take my delivery as normal. When I return to the shop, my manager pulls me aside.)

Manager: “So, we got a complaint about a straggly young man that wouldn’t take a tired woman with her heavy bags of shopping home?”

Me: “Oh, she rang up, did she? Did she say how she got in my car at a traffic light, knowing full well I was a pizza man?”

Manager: “Actually, yeah. But don’t worry; I talked some sense into her.”

Me: “Oh? You explained how we’re not insured to do that?”

Manager: *raises an eyebrow* “No. I explained how, if she rides in your car to [Town], all her shopping would stink of pizza for months. She asked why you didn’t just say so, and hung up. Okay, back to work.”

(And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you become a good manager.)

It Will Be A Cold Day In Hell Before They’re Satisfied

, , , , , | Right | January 14, 2018

(Our shop specializes in walk-in, available pizza, so we do not have our own drivers, but use a local delivery company. Customers who order delivery are told this over the phone, as they have to pay the delivery fee, as well. One cold December night, a woman orders two large meat pizzas for delivery. The pizzas are made and then sent away with a delivery company. I always make sure to put extra toppings on delivery pizzas, because our prices for large pizzas and for delivery are so high. The phone rings again, and my coworker answers. I overhear him mention the pizza box’s reheating instructions during the conversation, but I am busy focused on a task. When I wrap up what I am doing, I look over, and my poor coworker is just standing there, silent, bemused, and holding the phone. I walk over, and he wordlessly passes the phone to me. I can hear the screaming already coming through the phone. My coworker explains the issue to me in one ear while she screams through the phone into my other. Her pizzas, delivered far from the store’s location on a cold day — it was -25°C or 13°F — via a delivery company we have no control over had not arrived as fast and as hot as she was expecting. I try to speak but she keeps screaming profanities.)

Me: *trying to interject louder* “Ma’am! MA’AM, I WOULD LIKE TO HELP YOU!”

(She is not placated, and I don’t even think she heard me. Repeat. No results. She’s still screaming. Lukewarm pizza broke this woman, and it’s our fault.)

Customer: “I’M A F***ING PAYING CUSTOMER. I JUST WANT TO BE F***ING SATISFIED. SSSSAAAAATTTTISSSSFFFYYYYY MEEEEEEEEEE!”

Maybe They Were Too Baked To Notice

, , , , , | Right | January 12, 2018

(A customer comes back with pizza he ordered earlier. This is a take-and-bake pizzeria, which, of course, means they take it home and bake it in their oven.)

Customer: “I want to know who cooked this pizza. It’s cold and nasty!”

Manager: “Um… We don’t cook the pizzas here.”

Customer: “Well, whoever cooked it, it’s cold, and it’s disgusting.”

Manager: “Sir, we don’t cook the pizzas; this is a take-and-bake.”

Customer: “Well, whoever cooked it, it was terrible.”

Page 1/5312345...Last
Next »