(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!)

(I work at a pizza place, whose phone number is very close to the local doctor’s office.)

Me: “Hello, this is [Restaurant]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Hello, I need to place an appointment for my son.”

Me: “Ma’am, I believe you have a wrong number. This is the pizza place.”

Caller: “What? Can’t you just transfer me to the office in [Town]?”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but this is the pizza place. We have no association to the doctor’s office, so I can’t transfer you there. The number for the doctor’s office is [number].”

Caller: “Oh. Can I order a pizza?”

(My friend is over with her five-year-old daughter visiting me and my infant daughter. We decide to order from a small local chain pizza place that is known to take a little longer to take than most nation-wide chains. We order online and it gives us a time of 40 minutes to expect the delivery, which is fine.)

Friend’s Daughter: “When is the pizza gonna be here? I’m hungry!”

Friend: “Any time now! It’s supposed to be here at 7 and it’s 7 just now.”

(15 minutes later…)

Me: “I can’t believe the pizza isn’t here yet. It’s a weeknight; they shouldn’t be that busy… Maybe my order got lost online? I’ll call and see what’s up.”

(I call the shop.)

Me: “Hi, I ordered a pizza online over 45 minutes ago. It said it was supposed to be here at 7.”

Worker #1: “Yes, I remember that order. I’m sorry about that. The delivery driver just left with your order; he should be there in a few minutes.”

(I thank her and we wait another ten-fifteen minutes. Our town is VERY small and it would not take that long to deliver anything from their location. I first figured he was having trouble finding our house, which can be tricky, but I’ve never had this issue before. I call back.)

Me: “Hi, it’s [My Name] again. I called fifteen minutes ago about our pizza being late? We still haven’t gotten our pizza. I wanted to check on that.”

Worker #2: “He had another delivery. He should be there any minute now. Sorry about that!”

Me: “Okay, thanks. That’s fine.”

(They’ve been very polite both times I’ve called, and I have never had issues before, so I don’t complain. But then we wait another 10 minutes and I frustratingly call back, which is difficult with my social anxiety. So I’m very upset, but try to be polite. The first worker, who I know is the manager, answers again.)

Me: “Hi there. It’s [My Name]. I called twice already and we don’t have our pizza yet. I’d like to know when it’s going to be here? I ordered our food over an hour ago… We have kids that need to go to bed.”

Worker #1: “I’m sorry about that. I have no idea what’s going on. Can you give me your name and number again for me so I can give you a call back? I’ll call our driver and find out what the holdup is.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(My friend’s daughter is getting impatient, tired, and grumpy. We’re all annoyed and watching out the window for the driver. A couple minutes later, the manager calls me back.)

Worker #1: “Hi, is this [My Name]? I’m so sorry about the delay.” *she’s audibly annoyed with the driver* “The driver is on his way. I have no idea what happened, but we won’t be charging your card for the food. Again, I’m terribly sorry about that.”

Me: “Thank you very much. I appreciate it.”

(I’ve worked in food service, so I know it’s likely only the driver’s fault. I don’t blame the restaurant, but I’m really mad. I finally am able to put my daughter down to bed, and the pizza comes while I’m doing so. I instructed my friend to sign the slip if she still needs to, but no tip. After, she tells me what happened.)

Friend: “So it was some young guy, couldn’t have been out of high school very long. Didn’t say sorry or anything! Just had me sign the slip, mumbled that the manager said it’s free, and gave me a look when I didn’t give him a tip!”

(And, not surprisingly since it was 45 minutes late, the pizza was cold! At least it was free.)

(I deliver pizzas. Customers in apartment buildings would often forget to tell us what their security code was. This happened on a busy Saturday night before I had a cell phone.)

Me: *calling from a nearby pay phone* “This is the driver from [Pizza Restaurant]. I need your security code.”

Customer: “We’re at [Address].”

Me: “Okay. I need to know the security code.”

Customer: “We’re in [Apartment Number].”

Me: “I still need the security code so I can let you know when I arrive.”

Customer: “Maybe you don’t know where the front of the building is?”

Me: “I know where the front of the building is. I need to know what numbers to push when I get there.”

Customer: “Oh, it’s [code].”

(I arrive at the apartment a minute later and buzz the apartment. The customer emerges from an apartment a few doors down from the entrance.)

Customer: “It’s about time. What took so long?”

(Our manager is pregnant and Halloween is fast approaching.)

Manager: “What really sucks is that I love to dress up for Halloween, but this year, since I’m pregnant, I can’t do anything.”

Me: “Are you kidding? I can think of something perfect; a nun!”

(It seems that never crossed her mind. She practically lit up when I said it.)