Slooooowly Does It

, , , , , | Right | January 21, 2020

(It’s early in the day and fairly slow. I’m manning the till while my coworker is preparing trays of pizza dough just a few feet away. A man dressed in business attire walks into the shop and approaches my till, endlessly jabbering on his phone. He thrusts a coupon for a free one-topping slice at me, but says nothing apart from continuing his phone conversation.)

Me: *quietly, turning to my coworker* “It’s a policy of mine to ignore customers if they’re on their phone.”

Coworker: “Yeah, me, too.”

(I remain at the till but say nothing to the man, waiting for him to, at the very least, swivel his phone from his face for the half a second it would take to say whatever topping he wants on his slice. But alas, he continues his phone conversation like we’re not even there. I continue to stand in silence, just waiting, for a good three minutes at least, still holding the coupon, and I haven’t touched the order screen at all.)

Me: *turning to my coworker* “Dude, this is getting awkward.”

Coworker: *nods*

(Finally, the man takes a moment away from his super important phone call.)

Customer: “Are we about ready to go here, or what?”

Coworker: “Yeah, we’re just waiting on you.”

Me: “Whenever you’re ready.”

Customer: “Oh, uh, I’ll have pepperoni.” *returns to phone call*

(We made him his pepperoni slice, but we took our time and made sure to put it in the oven that cooks slower.)

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A Supreme Apology

, , , , , , , , | Working | January 18, 2020

On busy days, my boss has me call in pizza for the entire office. That’s about 300 or so people. The pizza shops in the area are generally super considerate and work with me to get the pizza delivered and/or in stages, so even if I only have an hour’s notice, we can start serving on time. This round, we order cheese, pepperoni, and supreme, though the supreme is only ten pies — about a quarter of the numbers the other two have.

As we get serving, I’m called away briefly, and when I get back, my coworker says that none of the supreme pizzas were delivered. At this point, I’m too tired and frazzled to doubt him, especially when three other people back him up, so I take ten of the pizzas back and explain the situation to the employees there.

One employee says he’s absolutely sure he made those ten supremes and that I must be mistaken, which I deny and explain that all my coworkers who were serving confirmed. We go back and forth for a couple of minutes before the employee offers to call his manager. Once off the phone, he tells me his manager will be in tomorrow and will be able to process a partial refund, which was all I wanted since the other pizzas were fine.

The next day, as I’m walking to my desk, I notice something: a plate with pizza leftover from yesterday, and it’s definitely not just cheese or pepperoni. I ask my coworker about it, and she tells me one of the servers gave it to her yesterday. The same one who told me we didn’t get any supreme whatsoever.

I talk to the coworker who was serving the day before, and he explains that he and the others thought it would be funny to play a joke on me. I’m royally ticked off at this point because I had to make an extra trip out to the pizza place to return the pizza, I was going to have to make another that day for the refund, I was stressed about the order being wrong, I stressed out the poor employees who had been kind enough to get all these pizzas for us on an hour’s notice, and I undoubtedly sounded like one of those people NAR loves to make fun of.

In the end, I swallowed my pride and went back to the pizza shop to apologize and explain what happened instead of getting a refund. If I could’ve, I would have dragged every employee who lied to me by the ear to that shop to apologize, as well.

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She’s Not Exactly A Hot Slice  

, , , , | Right | January 17, 2020

While road-tripping, we stop at an Italian restaurant. My husband and I decide to split a pizza. The menu doesn’t give the dimensions of the pizzas, just small, medium, and large. We ask our server what size she would recommend for two people, the small or the medium.

After thinking a bit, she says, “Well, they both have six slices!” We think she’s joking, but she’s not. Eventually, she ends up showing us the approximate sizes with her hands.

We get the medium. It does indeed have six slices.

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Reading NAR Can Get You Free Pizza!

, , | Right | January 13, 2020

(My husband and I are both having a bad day, so I decide to get some pizza. I get to a pizza chain and order two pizzas. I calmly wait and things should be done in ten to fifteen minutes. However, after eight minutes, one of the girls hurries to me.)

Employee: “I am so sorry, but there was a mistake with your order. We need to redo one of the pizzas.”

Me: “Oh, sure. Go ahead.”

Employee: “I’m really sorry.”

Me: *being a long-time lurker at NAR* “I can go and shout, but that won’t speed things up.”

Employee: *visibly relieved* “Ah, thank you. You can pick out a drink from behind you.”

(I go to the cooler and get a drink. I wait about ten minutes longer, and when my name is called, I come to pick up my order. I get five boxes.)

Me: “Eh, is this…?”

Employee: “Well, we had to remake your pizza and would have to toss away the old one, so we thought we’d give it to you anyway. The other pizza was just cancelled so we’d have to throw it out, as well, so we’d thought… why not throw it in, as well? Oh, and a lava cake, because you were so patient.”

(Baffled, I took the pizzas and headed home. The “wrong” pizza was the same as we ordered, just the wrong size. The extra pizza was pretty basic, but the ingredients were also found in the other pizzas, so I guess that’s why they thought it was safe to donate it to me. The lava cake was chocolate heaven. We didn’t finish all the pizza, but we don’t mind reheating things, so we had pizza the next day, as well. Thanks, pizza place!)

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Making Friends Over The Wrong Pizza

, , , , | Working | January 13, 2020

(I don’t actually work at the pizza place involved in this story. I am just a part of a weird chain of events that starts with my order being given to someone else, and ends with the receiver of my order calling me.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “My husband was just in there, and we got the wrong pizza. We ordered a pepperoni and what we got was an original meat. We live too far away to come and get another one. I was wondering if you could give me a coupon or something.”

Me: “Well, I would, but this is somebody’s house, not [Pizza Chain].”

Caller: “Oh, is this… [My Number], is that you?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Caller: “Well, this must be your order, then.”

Me: “Yeah, they remade our pizza.”

Caller: “Okay, I can’t find their number, then, sorry.”

Me: “No problem.”

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