Gordon Be Gone!

| NY, USA | Right | August 1, 2017

(My phone number is only two digits off from a local pizzeria’s. I’ve spent my entire life getting occasional wrong-dials from people who accidentally fumbled and hit the wrong number, looking for pizza. One night, it is two am, and our phone rings. I let it go to machine, and am greeted by a rather amusing voicemail from a very drunk man called “Gordon”, who is practically begging for pizza to be delivered to his dorm room at the local college. I try to go back to sleep, but “Gordon” calls back again… and again. On the third call, I answer the phone.)

Me: *groggy* “Look, Gordon… you’re dialing the wrong number. The pizza place’s number is [phone number.]”

Gordon: *slurred speech* “Look, I don’t care… Can you deliver pizzas? Four pepperoni ones? I remember your voice. I got the stromboli from you the other day!”

Me: “No, I just said you’re dialing the wrong number. This is not the pizza place, and I certainly don’t work there.”

Gordon: “Whhhaaattt? Well, then, can you pick me up some pizzas and bring them to me? I’ll pay you $20.”

Me: “No… No, I won’t do that.”

Gordon: *screaming* “You suck and you’re the Ebenezer Scrooge of pizza, a**-hole!”

(Gordon slammed the phone down and didn’t call back. Thankfully.)

A Big Mayo No No, Part 4

| ON, Canada | Right | July 26, 2017

(I work in a pizzeria which has a separate area for takeout and buying pizza by the slice. It’s the mid-afternoon on a Friday and I haven’t had a customer in to buy slices for over an hour. A man and his girlfriend approach my counter, checking over our Buffalo chicken pizza.)

Me: *wiping the table* “Can I help you with anything?”

Girlfriend: “Yeah… um… so, your Buffalo chicken… What’s on it?”

Me: “Chicken, hot sauce, BBQ sauce, blue cheese, and regular cheese.”

(I’ve eaten most things on the menu. I also build pizzas in the back when the pizza toppers are short staffed. As such, I know what’s on most of the pizzas.)

Girlfriend: “Like… it doesn’t have mayonnaise on it, does it?”

Me: “I’m 100% sure it doesn’t.”

Girlfriend: “Good, ‘cause that sounds gross, and, like, I hate mayonnaise!” *she rants about her dislike of mayonnaise*

Me: “Well… luckily… none of our pizzas have mayonnaise on them. Are you interested in the Buffalo chicken slices?”

Girlfriend: “Nah, I don’t eat cheese. I just wanted to ask about the mayonnaise.”

(They turn around and head out the door.)

Me: “Have a nice day…”

(My coworker was restocking our fridge with pop and juice, and heard the entire thing.)

Coworker: “Did that just happen?”

Me: “Yup… and it’s only the afternoon… I’m here over dinner.”

Coworker: “It’s going to be a long day.”

 

You Don’t Need That Actually Needs That

| MD, USA | Right | July 6, 2017

Me: “Thank you for calling [Pizza Place]. My name is [My Name]. Would you like to try an order of wings with your pizza today?”

Customer: “Yeah, I want…” *customer proceeds to rattle off their order, which I have no way to process yet because our system requires info before it lets us take the order*

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, but I need your information first.”

Customer: “No, you don’t.”

Me: “Actually, I do. Can I get your phone number?”

Customer: “You don’t need that.”

Me: “We need it so we can verify the order, and call you if we need to.”

(After several back and forths, the customer grudgingly gives me the number.)

Me: “All right, is this for carryout or delivery.”

Customer: “Why do you need to know that?”

Me: “Well, we need to know whether we’ll be sending it out to you, or if you’ll be coming in to pick it up.”

Customer: “Oh. Delivery. All right, so I want—”

Me: “I’m sorry; can I get your address first?”

Customer: “Why do you need that?”

Me: “You wanted it delivered right?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Well, then I need to know where you live.”

Customer: “I live on [Street], in the [describes house].”

Me: “No, ma’am, I need the actual street address.”

Customer: “No, you don’t. Just bring it to the [color] house.”

Me: “I’m sorry; I can’t send one of my drivers out to an arbitrary address. I need to know the street address, including the house number.”

(After roughly five minutes of back and forth on this, I finally get it out of her, then:)

Customer: “What are your specials?”

Me: *rattles off our specials*

Customer: “And what are your toppings?”

Me: *rattles off each of our toppings*

Customer: “All right, I want a three-topping pizza.”

(Long pause.)

Me: “…”

Customer: “How much will that be?”

Me: “What would you like on your pizza?”

Customer: *exasperated* “I told you that already.”

Me: *attempting to keep my cool* “I’m sorry, ma’am, could you repeat it for me?”

Customer: *in the most patronizing voice ever* “I want onions, beef, and pepperoni.”

Me: “All right, thank you.” *not wanting to keep her on the line but having to upsell anyway* “Would you like any drinks or wings?”

Customer: “Why the h*** would I want those things? I just want my pizza!”

Me: “And will that be cash or credit?”

Customer: “Credit.”

Me: “All right, and whenever you’re ready with the credit card number?”

Customer: “You don’t need that.”

Me: *resisting urge to bang head on desk* “If you’re not comfortable with giving me your credit information, would you like to pay with cash instead, or do carry out so you can do the card in-store?”

Customer: “No, I want to do credit.”

(Another few minutes of back and forth, and I finally get the info out of her and complete the order.)

Me: “All right, ma’am, have a nice da—” *click*

(I immediately slammed my face onto the front counter, and my mother, who had been standing nearby, burst out laughing. I was on that call for 45 minutes.)

How Did They Make It To The TOP?

| SC, USA | Working | July 5, 2017

(My boss and I are looking at the security cameras we have just had connected to a screen in the main room. The screen is three by three frames.)

Boss: “Hey look at the top corner.”

Me: “Which one?”

Boss: “The TOP CORNER!” *like I’m an idiot*

Me: “Which corner?”

Boss: “The TOP!” *again like I’m an idiot*

Me: “There are two top corners, which one would you like me to look at?”

Boss: “THE TOP… Oh, I see what you’re saying now. Camera number three in the top RIGHT corner.”

Me: “I don’t know how you made it so far in life without someone trying to kill you.”

Boss: “Yeah, me either.”

Was At The Top(ping) But Now Falling

| Latrobe, PA, USA | Right | July 5, 2017

(I work as a manager in a pizza shop. One night I got a call from a less than happy customer.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Yeah! I need to talk to a manager! I can’t eat my pizza!”

Me: “I’m a manager on duty. How can I help?”

Caller: “I ordered a meatball and extra cheese pizza but I can’t eat it because you messed it up!”

Me: “Sir, I’m very sorry. What was wrong with it?”

Caller: “I had a meatball roll off the pizza! So I got mad and threw it in my backyard and now I have no pizza to eat!”

Me: “Um, sir… did you say you threw it in the yard?”

Caller: “Yeah! My meatball fell off so I chucked it in the yard for the birds! You can’t treat customers that way.”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “Okay, sir, I apologize. Would you like a new pizza or a store credit?”

Caller: “No! You just need to know that toppings falling off isn’t good customer service!” *click*

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