Orders Pizza Every Week, Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel

| Fargo, ND, USA | Working | October 7, 2016

(I order a pizza. The gentleman who delivers it shows up at my door in a suit and tie, strangely enough. It gets weirder. While I write his tip on the receipt, he asks:)

Delivery Guy: “While I’m here, mind if I tell a joke?”

Me: “As long as it’s a good one!”

Delivery Guy: “Okay, here goes. Who’s a better detective, Batman or Sherlock Holmes?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

Delivery Guy: “Batman, because Sherlock Holmes is fictional.”

(I sputtered my perplexity briefly before thanking him and going back into my apartment. Did Bruce Wayne deliver me a pizza or is there something I’m missing?)

They Will Ghetto-ver It

| Nashville, TN, USA | Right | October 5, 2016

(I recently began working at a popular pizzeria near a really bad neighborhood. Because of that, we cut off delivery to certain parts of our area in the evenings to protect our drivers. One evening the phone rings, and because I’m being trained on the point-of-sale system that day, my coworker answers as I watch. I can also hear what the customer is saying.)

Coworker: “Thank you for calling [Pizzeria]. My name is [Coworker]. Will this be for delivery or carryout?”

Customer: “Delivery.”

Coworker: “Okay, what’s the address?”

(The customer gives their address, which is on one of the streets that is affected by the cut-off time.)

Coworker: “I’m sorry, we don’t deliver to [Street] after [cut-off time].”

Customer: “Okay.” *yelling to someone on their end* “MA! THEY DON’T DELIVER TO THE GHETTO!” *click*

Doesn’t Know Wheat You Mean, Part 3

| Salt Lake City, Utah, USA | Working | September 22, 2016

(My friend has a very severe case of Celiac disease and cannot eat any gluten without getting incredibly ill. She’s very cautious about what she eats and always makes sure to request gluten free when ordering food, either for delivery or in a restaurant. It’s Saturday night and we’re having game night at her house. My husband and her husband decide they really want pizza, so we call one of the few local pizza places that guarantee a gluten-free crust with no cross-contamination. When the pizzas arrive, we all start to dig in, until friend realizes something is very wrong.)

Friend: “Ugh! This isn’t gluten free! This is thin crust!”

Me: “Are you sure? Maybe the gluten free is a thin crust.”

Friend’s Husband: “Here, let me taste it.” *he takes a bite* “Nope, definitely not gluten free, and there’s flour all over the bottom of it.”

Friend: “Grrr! Give me the phone, this is bull****!” *dials the restaurant* “Yes, I just had a pizza delivery to my house, and I specifically ordered a small gluten free with bacon and mushrooms, and I can guarantee this is not gluten free.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “Yes, I would love to speak to your manager.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “Hi, yes, I just ordered from your store and specifically ordered a small gluten free pizza with bacon and mushrooms, and not only is this not your gluten free crust, but it’s covered in flour.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “No, I can’t just ‘eat the pizza;’ I have Celiac disease. Do you know what that is?”

(Pause.)

Friend: “No, it’s not a fad diet. It means if I eat gluten I end up throwing up and having diarrhea for days.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “What I want you to do about it is remake the pizza correctly and have it delivered.”

(Pause.)

Friend:

“Yeah, I’m sure you are busy, given that it’s Saturday night, but if you guys had done it correctly the first time this wouldn’t be an issue.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “NO, I AM NOT GIVING YOU MY CREDIT CARD NUMBER! YOU MESSED UP MY ORDER! I AM NOT PAYING FOR A SECOND PIZZA WHEN YOU’RE THE ONES THAT SCREWED UP!”

(Pause.)

Friend:“YES, IT HAS TO BE DELIVERED TONIGHT. I WOULD LIKE TO ACTUALLY EAT TONIGHT!”

(Pause.)

Friend:“Okay, let me explain what I would like from you. I do not want a voucher. I do not want a refund. I just want to be able to eat tonight. I don’t care if it’s going to take 45 minutes to get another pizza to me. Please just remake the pizza, how I ordered it, and have it delivered as soon as possible.”

(Pause.)

Friend:“Okay, great.

Me: “Wow, so, how’d it go?”

Friend: *gives me the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen*

(When her replacement pizza arrived the delivery guy knocked and then left it on the porch before we could grab the door. It was gluten free – but bacon and peppers instead of bacon and mushrooms. She ate it anyway and hasn’t ordered from there since.)

Related:
Doesn’t Know Wheat You Mean, Part 2
Doesn’t Know Wheat You Mean

Gets Everything She Ever Wanted, Including ‘It’

| CA, USA | Working | September 19, 2016

(The owners of this pizza franchise have their daughter working as one of their managers. She is usually nice enough, but has the biggest issue with whining about how terrible her life is. One day, a coworker and I have had enough of her complaining.)

Boss’s Daughter: “Ugh! My dad is so terrible! I want to go to [Event], but no! They have me working that weekend! I can’t believe this!”

Me: “Yeah, your parents are the WORST. I mean, they only paid your entire way through college and you didn’t have to spend a cent.”

Coworker: “And they bought you the car you’re driving, and are paying for your insurance, too.”

Me: “AND they’re paying your rent for you.”

Coworker: “AND they’re paying you hourly wages to work here even though they themselves don’t get anything if the restaurant doesn’t make a profit.”

Boss’s Daughter: “Well, yeah, but my dad—”

Coworker: “My dad is in prison. I’ve never met him, and I don’t want to. I would love to have a father who is present in my life!”

Me: “My dad’s a dead-beat who never paid child support when my parents got divorced. He was more concerned with himself than his wife and kids. Your parents clearly are doing everything they can to make sure you live a comfortable life. I don’t think working on a weekend when they’re paying you wages on top of everything else is too much to ask!”

Boss’s Daughter: “Ugh. Just never mind! You don’t get it!”

Coworker: *after she’d gone* “I sure don’t.”

Totally (Second) Floored By The Lack Of Service

, | Malmö, Sweden | Working | September 11, 2016

(I’d broken my foot in two places and had been back from the hospital for just a couple of days. I order a pizza online for delivery from a popular pizza place and pay via credit card. Since I live on the second floor and can’t walk more than a few meters at a time with my crutches, I make a very clear note when I place the order that they have to deliver the pizza to my door, since I absolutely can’t carry something while walking down the stairs. Before the order goes through and my credit card is charged, they have to manually check and approve the order. Within a minute after placing the order I give them a call for a minor correction.)

Older Pizza Guy: “Hey. We were just going to call you. You have to get down to the street to get the pizza. We don’t deliver to apartments. We don’t have the time!”

Me: “But I have already paid and you approved the order with my note saying you have to deliver to my door.”

Older Pizza Guy: “We don’t deliver to apartments! We don’t have the time!”

(This goes back and forth for a minute or two before he hands the phone to a younger guy who’s more coherent.)

Younger Pizza Guy: “Look, if we have to go up the stairs to every apartment, we would fall behind on our deliveries.”

Me: “Yes, I understand that. But you okayed my order and I’ve already paid. I literally cannot go down to the street to get my pizza.”

Younger Pizza Guy: “Okay. You’ll get your pizza but it has to be on our last delivery before we close.”

(Desperate for food and in a world of pain after the surgery, I accepted. The pizza arrived at 23:00, three hours after I’d ordered it. Try reading the actual order before accepting payment next time.)

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