Day-Scare

| MO, USA | Working | July 8, 2016

Me: “Thank you for calling [Pizza Place]. Will this be delivery or carryout?”

Caller: *to someone in the background* “Ya’ll need to shut the h*** up! Seriously, ya’ll need to calm the f*** down! Little f******! G*****n it!” *to me* “Hello? You there?”

Me: “Um, yes?”

Caller: *laughs* “Sorry about that. I’m at work. Ya’ll deliver to [Daycare]?”

Brothers In Arms

, | Port Charlotte, FL, USA | Right | June 23, 2016

(My younger brother and I both manage at a chain pizza place in our local mall. Although five years apart we regularly get asked if we are twins. One Sunday morning after a long night of drinking we are both working. He is in the back room prepping food; I am out front manning the register. A customer walks up and asks the price of a slice of pizza. Had he turned his head 30 degrees left he’d have seen the price board right next to him.)

Customer: “How much for a slice of pepperoni?”

Me: *turning my head slowly and slightly toward the price board* “$1.79 according to the board.”

Customer: *immediately irate* “I want to see your manager right now!”

Me: “Okay, let me get him for you.” *slowly walk through swinging door to kitchen on left side of service area* “Hey, bro, some guy out front wants to talk to the manager.”

(My brother walks out front by way of the other door to see what he can do for the man.)

Brother: “Yes, sir, how may I help you?”

Customer: “I told you, I want to see the manager.”

(My brother walks back in the same door he used.)

Brother: “He says he wants to talk to you now.”

(I walk back out front through the same door I had previously used.)

Me: “Yes, sir, what can I do for you?”

Customer: “How many times do I have to tell you? I WANT TO SEE THE MANAGER!”

(I walk into the back again and tell my brother he’s needed by the customer again, brother then goes back out the door he’s been using.)

Brother: “Yes, sir?”

Customer: “F***! I told you to get the manager! Now don’t you move a step. Call the manager out here so we can all have words.”

Brother: *pushes the door open and shouts to the back* “Hey, come on out here. Now he wants to talk to both of us.”

(I walk out front, and smile broadly at the customer.)

Me: “Yes, sir? How may WE help you?”

(Looking back and forth between us.)

Customer: “Well, obviously I’m not going to get anything done here!”

Me & Brother: *simultaneously* “Nope.”

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A Hot Slice Of Common Sense, Part 3

| Canberra, ACT, Australia | Right | June 22, 2016

(Two conversations I have on a scarily regular basis in my pizza shop:)

Me: “Can I grab a phone number, please?”

Customer: “Oh, yes, hold on. It’s [number].”

Me: “That’s our number; I need your number, please.”

(Later:)

Me: “Can I grab a name for the order, please?”

Customer: “Isn’t it already called the Meat Lovers?”

Related:
A Hot Slice Of Common Sense, Part 2
A Hot Slice Of Common Sense

Getting Your Card Is Not On The Cards

| IA, USA | Working | June 6, 2016

(I am at a large pizza sports bar. It is about an hour after the regular lunch rush so the restaurant is pretty slow and only has about six tables with customers. About half the wait-staff is probably on break, but there are still about three covering tables. Our waitress is really friendly but a tiny bit distracted. We get our bill and I give her my card to pay… and wait for her return. She then takes some food out to another table and gets drinks. My husband goes to use the restroom, comes back, and asks if I am ready to go. Nope. Still haven’t gotten my card back. Then I realize that she is wiping down a table that is clean. I realize she has forgotten us. I walk up to her while my husband sits at the table with our to-go boxes.)

Me: “Excuse me. We really need to be going –” *I point towards my husband*  “– and I would like my card back.”

Waitress: “I never gave it back?”

Me: “Nope.”

Waitress: “Oh, dear…”

(She walks to the unmanned check-out stand next to the outside door. Our bill has been rung through and is sitting on the counter, with my card, out in the open.)

Waitress: “Okay. Here you go. The tip sheet is at the bottom of the bill.”

(For the record: yes, I still tipped her, but it wasn’t the higher percentage that I normally tip.)

Horrifically Bad Timing

| MB, Canada | Right | May 30, 2016

(I am delivering pizza. I am going up to a house at about 11 pm and ring the doorbell. Immediately I hear a blood-curdling scream of absolute terror. A face looks out the window next to the door.)

Customer: *behind the door* “Oh, thank god!”

(Upon opening the door, it turned out the couple were watching a horror movie, and I had rung the doorbell at the exact wrong moment.)

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