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Receiving Pizzas Is Not Their Calling

, , , , | Right | April 14, 2022

I’m working as a delivery driver for a pizza place. I take an order to an apartment where the slip says to call when I get there. Of course, upon arrival, I call the number.

No answer.

The apartment number is on the slip, so I go upstairs and knock on the door. No answer.

I alternate back and forth between calling the number and knocking loudly on the door. I even yell out:

Me: “[Restaurant] pizza is here!”

In the end, I call the number five times. No answer. In desperation, I also try texting to see if that works. Still no answer. I call my manager and ask what to do, and they say to bring the pizza back.

An hour later, when I’m on another delivery, I get a text back.

Customer: “Can’t hear texts; that’s why I said to call.”

Picky As Heck Or Fishing For Freebies?

, , , | Right | CREDIT: starshine913 | April 12, 2022

I work as a manager at a pizza place in a rich college town I have been there for ten years and I love my job. I handle most customer concerns because I’m very good in those situations. I keep my cool, and most of the time, I can correct any problem.

One of our regulars is a whole family that orders from three of our stores, so we all are familiar with them. The daughter (early college age) calls up and orders. When she shows up, she asks for two ranch cups, which we are supposed to charge for.

Me: “Okay, that will be an extra dollar.”

She flips on me.

Customer: “You normally just give it to me for free!”

Me: “I’m sorry for that, but we’re supposed to charge for it. Do you still want it?”

Customer: “No.”

And she leaves.

Two days later, she orders again and after she picks up her pizza, she calls back to complain.

Customer: “You put ham on my pizza, which is against my religion! Can I get another one sent out?”

We are VERY aware of their religion, and we respect it, so we always make sure to triple-check their pizzas before sending them out.

Me: “Absolutely, I’ll send out a new pizza. When it arrives, can you give the driver the messed up one, please?”

This is our protocol. She flips out on me.

Customer: “I shouldn’t have to return the pizza! You just need to send out a new one!”

Finally, two days after THAT, she calls for an order. I hear the driver repeat her order back to her and end the call. She calls back after receiving her order and talks to the driver who took her order.

Customer: “I’m missing a whole pizza. I ordered a specialty pizza and it’s not here. Can you send it out, please?”

The driver flips out.

Driver: “I repeated your order back to you and you said it was correct!”

I have him tell her that if she wants to order another pizza, we will waive the delivery fee. They go back and forth literally arguing about the order. I let it go on because I am fed up. Once the conversation switches to personal insults, I take the phone.

Customer: “Do you know who we are? My dad owns ten [Sandwich Shop Chain]s. We could buy your pizza place from you! I’m not trying to get free food.”

Then, she has her dad call us.

Dad: “What’s the driver’s name? I will make it my life’s mission to have him fired and ruin his life.”

Me: “Now that you are threatening us, you can have my name, and I’m ending this conversation.”

He literally called the store EVERY two minutes for an hour. We weren’t answering. I didn’t lose my cool, but this guy was relentless! They reported me to corporate but they sided with me.

We wanted to ban them from our location (and the other two in our area) and we couldn’t. However, we did implement a system where we would repeat their orders to them slowly and clearly, ask if they wanted to add ranch making sure to say it was fifty cents each, and show them their orders before they left with them and have them confirm again that they were correct. They quit coming around on my shifts.

She Starts Out Rude And Escalates To Monstrous

, , , , , , , | Working | April 11, 2022

When I was seventeen or eighteen, I worked full-time as a waitress at a very popular chain pizza restaurant. Around three months in, I was promoted to supervisor as I worked more hours than anyone else in the front of house and knew my way around the restaurant very well.

After about six months of working there, a new second supervisor was hired who had apparently worked there a few years prior. I had just gotten into work, a day after getting a new tattoo, and was showing it to an old friend from school who also worked there. [New Supervisor] walked up and interrupted our conversation. Let it be known that we had only ever said, “Hello,” to each other ONCE when she was hired and hadn’t spoken anything else to one another.

New Supervisor: “That’s hideous. Worst choice for a first tattoo, honestly.”

Coworker: “Wow, that’s rude. What the h***?”

Me: “Well, it’s a good thing it’s on me and not you, I guess.”

I walked away to avoid any other conversation, and she ended her shift shortly after, as I was taking over for the dinner shift. That night, when counting the till, we were under by about $50. We came to realize that [New Supervisor] had voided and refunded an order without punching it into the computer, so the system was displaying the total we should have had, instead of what we did have. The owner spent an hour sorting it out as we had already processed the sales for the day, and all was fine after that, albeit annoying.

About two weeks later, my coworker/friend approached me.

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], did you see the schedule for next week? [New Supervisor] crossed off half your shifts and replaced them with her name, and vice versa. Apparently, you’re scheduled to work opening instead of closing on New Year’s Eve now.”

I walked to the office and saw that she had indeed swapped all our schedules. Being fresh out of high school, I definitely needed the tips that came with the dinner service, especially on New Year’s Eve. After that shift was our Christmas/New Year’s staff party, and as I lived forty minutes from the restaurant, I didn’t want to have to go all the way home mid-day just to have to come back that evening anyway. I spoke to the owner and he reprinted the original schedule, with a big note that said, “DO NOT CHANGE THE SCHEDULE WITHOUT MANAGEMENT’S PERMISSION.” Problem solved, right? Wrong.

New Year’s Eve rolled around, and I was greeted at 10:15 am with a phone call from panicking kitchen staff there to start up the store and turn on the ovens to open for 11:00 am, including preparing over a dozen multi-pizza pre-orders to be ready for noon. Apparently, [New Supervisor] no-showed for her shift and there was no supervisor on-site, meaning no key to get in and no voids, refunds, or anything could be processed without our special codes, nothing. Nobody could reach [New Supervisor] on the phone, so I agreed to work a double shift and headed in with my NYE outfit in my backpack.

The day went by without issue until 5:00 rolled around — my original scheduled time — and in walked [New Supervisor] in her work uniform. I didn’t actually see her come in as I was covering two sections due to the no-show, so I was too busy to see until I went into the back to print a receipt.

New Supervisor: “I’m here now, so you can clock out and leave.”

Me: “Uh, no? You no-showed so I picked up a double shift. [Owner] already okayed it. We’ve got this covered.”

New Supervisor: “Well, I’m here now and I need the money, so leave!”

Me: “I’m gonna go get [Owner].”

When I tell you the owner was not happy about being called away from setting up for our staff party at his other restaurant, I mean it. He walked in the back absolutely red in the face and stared at [New Supervisor].

Owner: “Let me get this straight. You no-call, no-show, and show up whenever you please afterward? I already told [My Name] she could have a double shift today. Go home.”

New Supervisor: “I changed the schedule! She said we could switch for today. It wasn’t my fault she was late.”

Me: “I never said we could switch. [Owner] changed the schedule back when I pointed it out.”

Owner: “[New Supervisor], leave now. You’re still on your probationary period, so I need to consider what to do with you going forward. This isn’t acceptable.”

I walked back out front to take care of my tables and customers. I saw [Owner] and [New Supervisor] emerge about ten minutes later. [Owner] pulled me aside and said [New Supervisor] was going to take over one of my two sections to help out. The restaurant was packed, the waiting line was out the door, and the phones were going nuts with delivery orders anyway, so it would have been a help.

A table of my regulars came in and I input their usual order: spaghetti and meatballs, and a large pepperoni pizza. Thirty minutes later, they asked how long it would be. I apologized profusely due to how busy we were and headed to the kitchen to check. The head cook told me that order had been voided two minutes after it was sent in, so they didn’t make it. Yep, you guessed it: only one other person could void orders with the special supervisors’ code only she and I had. I went onto the computer and saw that EVERY ORDER I had put in over the last thirty minutes had been voided only minutes after it had been put in, but I was running around too much and the kitchen was too busy for either of us to check in on one another.

[New Supervisor] approached me, in front of HUNDREDS of customers, and started laughing loudly, saying how bad of a server I was and how I should just have gone home when she told me to, that this was a lesson for me, etc. By this time, the nearly deafeningly loud restaurant was dead silent and staring at us.

One by one, the customers got up and left while [New Supervisor] desperately tried to stop them. The waiting area cleared out, as well. By the time the commotion stopped, only around ten out of the 120-plus customers remained. I packed my stuff and started to walk out. Four cooks and two servers followed me out, quitting on the spot. 

Word traveled fast, and out of the fifteen total staff members the restaurant had, only five showed up to the Christmas/NYE party.

[Owner] called me up and asked what had happened. I explained, and he said, “I see,” and hung up.

I returned the next day first thing in the morning to hand in my keys and key card to the owner. All the dirty dishes were still on the tables and [Owner] was there with his sleeves rolled up, looking at a mountain of receipts. After our call, he had gone in and fired [New Supervisor] on the spot. After doing the math, he had lost over $1,500 in unpaid bills due to the customers walking out after [New Supervisor]’s scene. He also found over $700 was missing from the till over the time [New Supervisor] had been working there; she would void orders after they were delivered and pocket the cash for herself. 

I didn’t end up returning to that restaurant, although I felt really horrible about the situation, but my mental health had gone severely downhill and I would have been put on medical leave anyway.

Someone who knew [New Supervisor]’s family personally updated me a year later. She ended up being on drugs and stealing from both of her jobs to feed that habit. She also stole from her parents, and she got arrested not long after getting fired for drug trafficking and possession. Karma, I guess?

It’s All About Perspective

, , , , , , | Working | April 8, 2022

I had been working at a local chain pizza delivery store for a few weeks when [Manager #1] announced that he was going to be out of town on a Saturday, two weeks hence. No problem, the owner would just send a replacement from one of the other stores for the day. The other employees started getting nervous; apparently, there was one manager in particular, [Manager #2], they didn’t want.

Thursday before his day off, [Manager #1] told us that [Manager #2] would be managing the store Saturday evening. Everyone groaned, even though [Manager #1] relayed the owner’s assurances that the issues had been addressed with [Manager #2].

During a lull on Thursday afternoon, [Manager #1] explained to me that [Manager #2] was disliked because she couldn’t close the store in a timely manner. Normally, we start breaking down the make line and cleaning up after the late rush (when we get one or two orders per hour). Pizza ingredients go into their metal tubs and are placed on a cart, and the cart is wheeled into the cooler. The make line is washed down, etc. We spot clean as necessary so that when we close at 2:00 am, it takes no more than thirty — maybe forty-five — minutes to finish cleaning and walk out. [Manager #2] couldn’t lock up in less than ninety minutes, even on a “fast” night.

Saturday night, I found out why everyone was groaning. We weren’t allowed to break down the make line because we got three orders between 11:00 and midnight, so clearly it was going to be even busier, even later. Since [Manager #2] was expecting another large rush, none of the late-night drivers were allowed to leave early; they had to stay until the store closed at 2:00 am (which is when she allowed us to start cleaning) and help with cleaning up before she would start checking them out. Then, she had to complete the paperwork and prepare the bank drop before we were allowed to leave.

Sunday afternoon, [Manager #1] came in and called me into the office.

Manager #1: “How did last night go? Did you get out early?”

Me: “Oh, yeah, we got out early—”

[Manager #1] interrupted, surprised and pleased.

Manager #1: “Really? How—”

Me: “I mean, a lot of people consider 5:00 am to be ‘early’.”

How Hard Is It To Be Civil?

, , , , , , | Working | April 8, 2022

My friends and I were in Las Vegas for the weekend. We stopped at a pizza place and ordered a large pepperoni and sausage pizza. The cashier told me it would be fifteen minutes, so we took a seat. Everyone else filtering through the shop ordered single slices, so they came and went while my friends and I waited.

Finally, after thirty minutes, the cashier pulled a whole pepperoni and sausage pizza from the oven and put it in a box. I stood up and walked to the pick-up window.

The cashier looked up at me and down at the pizza, and then he turned and put it down behind the counter before turning away from me.

Me: *Politely* “Excuse me?”

The cashier pulled out his phone.

Me: *Louder* “Excuse me?”

He stepped further away.

Me: *Yelling* “EXCUSE ME!”

Cashier: *Turning around* “You have to order down there!”

He pointed to the cash register.

Me: “I did!”

I held up the receipt and pointed at the box.

Me: “I believe that’s my pizza you just put back there.”

Cashier: “Did you order a pineapple and ham?”

Me: “No, I ordered a large pepperoni and sausage, just like that pizza you just put over there.”

I handed over my receipt. The cashier looked at it, rolled his eyes, and grabbed the pizza. He dropped it on the pick-up counter and walked away.

Me: “Seriously?”

Cashier: “You got your pizza, okay?”

He waved me off.

Me: *Sarcastically* “Oh, thanks so much!”

My friends and I took our pizza and left. It was good but not worth the money we paid and the attitude.