(I work delivering pizzas and tonight we get slammed. One driver has called off so we currently only have two drivers and there are only two insiders to make all the food. Apparently one customer has been standing up front waiting for a little while, with a clear view of all the orders to be picked up/delivered. I guess they got tired of waiting and left a note:)

Note: *quoted exactly* “If anyone had bothered to came up you would have had our order, but now Dominos dose.”

(Yes, bad grammar and spelling included, and I don’t think anyone cared that we lost one sale considering the wait time for deliveries was currently running about an hour-and-a-half, and even pickups had to wait at least half-an-hour.)

(A local pizza shop makes amazing food; however, their default “doneness” is several shades darker than I like, so I usually ask them to cook it lighter. This has never been a problem until the current order.)

Me: “I’d like a calzone, one medium with extra cheese, and one medium with pepperoni. And could we get those cooked light?”

Cashier: “Uh, no?”

Me: “…Excuse me?”

Cashier: “We don’t do ‘diet’ pizza.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, no! I just meant we don’t normally like the crusts as dark as you guys usually cook them, so I was just asking you to cook them less.”

Cashier: “Well, how are we supposed to do that, then, smart guy?”

Me: “By… cooking them less? Putting them in the oven for thirteen minutes instead of fifteen, or whatever the normal time is?”

Cashier: “We cook them the way we cook them. Twenty minutes.”

(At this point he hangs up on me. Knowing they only ever have one person working the phones at a time I get dressed and drive as fast as I can down to the place, making it in 10. I bypass the front of the counter completely, and see the owner is working there, who I normally talk with.)

Me: “Hey, [Owner].”

Owner: “Hey-hey, [My Name]. What can I getcha?”

Me: “I just ordered [repeats order]. Did those ask to get put in light?”

Owner: “Oh, nah, but we just put ’em in. Those are for you? I thought you always got it light?”

Me: “Yeah, your new cashier just told me ‘We cook them the way we cook them’ and hung up on me.”

Owner: “[CASHIER]!”

(The switch between happy and yelling made me jump back about a foot! Turned out that I was the third customer with a special order – something the store prided themselves on fulfilling – that the cashier had told they wouldn’t fulfill without checking with the boss that day. It was her first day, and apparently her last because I saw her walking out with her purse before I got my food!)

(I ordered a pizza over an hour ago through a national chain. Their online tracker says it’s been delivered for 20 minutes. My pizza arrives late, so I go outside to meet the delivery man.)

Delivery Man: “Hi, uh, what did you order?”

Me: “A large pepperoni, a pasta, breadsticks, and a two-liter of root beer.”

Delivery Man: “Oh, you were that order?”

Me: “Yes…”

Delivery Man: “Well, I don’t have it with me.”

Me: “Uh, what?”

Delivery Man: “I don’t have your order. I didn’t bring it. Do you want me to go get it?”

Me: “Well, yes, that would be great.”

Delivery Man: “Okay, it’ll be 30 minutes to an hour. I’ll have to deliver the next round of orders first. Just go on and pay me now. Here’s the receipt.”

Me: “Whoa! Uh, I’m sorry, but no, you really need to bring mine first, and there’s no way in h*** I’m paying until I have what I paid for. Why did you even come if you didn’t have it? Why didn’t you go back and pick it up first?”

Delivery Man: “Didn’t think about it. Want this [Soda], though?” *hands me a 20oz [Soda]*

(He got back in his car and drove off. I called the store to let them know what happened. They were just as baffled as me, and found my order in the cooler with the sodas. They remade it (or at least heated it up, I guess), a manager brought it himself within 20 minutes, and I didn’t have to pay. I’m guessing they need to do some drug testing at that location!)

(This is for the great waiter who was smiling and polite through this whole exchange.)

My Mom: “Oh, I know exactly what I’d like!” *points in menu at full description of sandwich, including picture* “The veggie sandwich!”

Server: “Oh, the ultimate veggie, great! Anything else?”

My Mom: “No, that will be perfect. I’ve had it before!”

(Time passes, food arrives.)

My Mom: “Oh, no, no. This isn’t what I wanted! I ordered the ultimate veggie sandwich!”

Server: “Ye-es. What seems to be the problem?”

My Mom: “Last time it was different. I wanted different bread. And is there mayo? No mayo. And no onions. I hate onions!”

Me: *head in hands*

Server: “No problem. I will be right out with that.”

(I’m an 18-year-old pizza delivery girl. I am stopping for gas one night when a nice-looking, well-dressed man pulls up and asks me directions to the nearest Wal-mart. I figure he asks because one would assume that a delivery driver would be handy with directions. I give him directions and go inside to pay. When I come back to the pump to pay this happens.)

Guy: “So, how much do you make, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Me: “Well, we make minimum wage plus tips, so it can vary.”

Guy: “But I mean, like, how much do you make a week?”

(Thinking he is interested in a job?)

Me: “Uh, like, $300-500 a week?”

Guy: “Okay! So, what if you could make like a weeks pay in just a few minutes?”

Me: *concerned* “Uh, doing what?”

Guy: “Well, you are real cute, first of all, and I’ve been really lonely lately, and—”

Me: “OH! OH, MY GOODNESS! UM, I REALLY CAN’T—”

Guy: “Wait! Just hear me out! Now I have $500 in my wallet and I promise you can have it!”

Me: “Well, I’m flattered but I really have to get back to work.”

Guy: “But it will only take a few minutes.”

Me: *annoyed* “I’m sure that’s true, but I highly doubt that you even have the kind of money you are offering me, and the chances that you intend on robbing me and leaving me beaten or dead in a ditch are pretty good from where I’m standing.”

Guy: “Nuh-uh! Look!” *pulls out wallet and counts out $487 and thrusts it towards me*

Me: “DUDE! I’M WORKING! I HAVE A JOB AND I HAVE TO GO!”

(I have only been waiting for the pump to finish counting down, and it finally is.)

Guy: “But what if, real quick, you just spit in your hand—”

(I closed my car door and drove away – The end!)