I’m taking orders at a pizza place. [Customer #1] has just ordered a large pineapple pizza, and I’m about to give her the total when [Customer #2] storms up and starts yelling at her.

Customer #2: “What the h*** is wrong with you?! No self-respecting American eats that s***! Get the f*** out of here! That is the most—”

[Customer #1] is beginning to tear up, and I’m about to kick this guy from the store when someone else interrupts [Customer #2]. [Customer #3] grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around, catching him off-guard.

Customer #2: “What the f***?! You have no business touch—”

Customer #3: “No.”

Customer #2: “Excuse me?”

Customer #3: “No. You’re an a**hole and a terrible excuse for a human being, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch it.”

Customer #2: “What the h*** are you going on about?! She’s the one who—”

Customer #3: “Why the f*** do you care how someone else likes their pizza?”

Customer #2: “I… Because…”

Me: “That’ll be all.” *To [Customer #2]* “You are not welcome here. Get out.”

We had to have [Customer #2] forcibly removed. [Customer #3] got a huge discount from me and a shower of tearful thanks from [Customer #1].

I used to be a night-time manager at a pizza place downtown. We were literally around the corner from a direct competitor. They had a carryout window and offered that service all night. We did not; we closed our doors at 10:00 pm and only offered delivery service after that.

We were quite friendly with the local police department, and they frequently sat in our parking lot at night to catch up on paperwork, watch for drunk drivers, etc.

One night at about 11:30 pm, I had a woman and a man start banging on our door. I spoke to them politely but loudly through the door.

Me: “We close carryout at 10:00!”

The woman went ballistic and started screaming and hitting the door, while the man just stood there watching trying to look hard. I asked another employee to keep an eye on me in case the situation escalated, and then I stepped out a side door in order to be able to actually converse with the couple.

The woman was absolutely nuclear at this point.

Woman: “We ordered our food! Where the f*** is our food?!”

Me: “If you called and ordered, it was probably our friendly neighbors with the carryout window.”

Woman: “You calling me stupid?! I called you guys!”

Me: “Can I ask you to check your phone and tell me which number you called?”

Woman: “I don’t have to! I know I called y’all, and it was you that took my order!”

Me: “There is absolutely no way I took a carryout order after we closed carryout.”

At this point, the man joined in and started taking a very aggressive posture and tone with me.

Man: “You’d better let us in and get our food!”

Me: “No.”

Then, the man shoved me and I stumbled back about three feet. He tried to swing at me and missed. At about the same time, the woman attempted to rush me, and there was a sound of “WOOOP! WOOOP!” and the flashing of blue lights behind them.

Astonishingly, this didn’t stop them from continuing to try to assault me; however, the two uniformed police officers that happened to have just pulled in took care of that very quickly.

Another squad car showed up. The couple was cuffed and placed in the cars and the officers were given a copy of the security footage. I asked the officer I was talking to if, for the sake of curiosity, he could possibly try to convince the woman to tell him the phone number she had called. He walked me back out to the car she was in and somehow convinced her to do this.

Woman: *Glaring at me* “[Number ending in 7272], you stupid f***!”

Me: *Smiling* “Our number is [number ending in 3030]. You called the number for Papa John’s. That’s why 7272 spells out ‘Papa’.”

This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

When I worked at a pizza store, we got this new worker right out of high school. This kid was a moron. Other than trying to annoy my coworkers and me to the point of at least three different altercations, this guy was just… dumb.

But the straw that broke the camel’s back was after he got transferred to another store.

This takes place during the cusp of the global health crisis becoming an actual issue that people were taking seriously.

This business being a franchise, the managers have a group chat to keep up to date on each other’s stores.

[New Worker] calls out sick… with a fever of 105F. Okay, you are having brain issues at that temperature, but the manager (of the other store) is willing to give him a pass.

But then, [New Worker] wanders into my store. We had heard about “105 Kid”, and to see him walk in is a surprise.

The kid genuinely thought he could just hang out with his old coworkers for the day. The kid can’t understand why everyone in the store is yelling at him to go home and stay away.

He’s sick. Go HOME!

Oh, but he just lied because he doesn’t want to work at the other store. He’s bored.

Well, I hope he can fix his boredom while being unemployed.

A family comes in on Sunday for the lunch buffet. They’re great, we are laughing and joking, and I am really enjoying the table. When they leave, the husband leaves $2.00 on the table. I overhear the following conversation between him and his wife.

Husband: “Two dollars? Really?”

Wife: “What? It’s Sunday.”

Husband: “But he was a great guy. I think we should leave more.”

Wife: “It’s the Lord’s Day. He shouldn’t be working.”

I decide to order a pizza. Originally, I was going to pick it up myself from a place right down the block, but I discover I’ve left it too late, and this close to closing, they aren’t answering the phone for new orders. So, I order a pizza from a place a little further away; I order online and opt for delivery.

For whatever reason, delivery drivers have a hard time with my apartment complex, especially the fact that my side of the complex is served by only one gate off the main entrance — where there’s a keypad for secure entry — while the other side has both that gate (which is often kept open lately for plumbing work) and an exit-only gate opening onto another road. If the delivery drivers aren’t going through the already-open gate and going the wrong way before looking for my building, they’re sneaking through the exit-only gate the other way, which means they’ll never actually get in front of my building; they’d have to go back out and then in again as directed.

Since this is pretty much always the case, I always leave really detailed instructions on the order form when I submit it. “Enter from [Road], use code [number], and go right/east through Gate #1, and it’s the building directly ahead at the end of the lot,” etc. I do that tonight, and, as usual, add a decent driver tip at checkout.

At the very end of the delivery window, when the tracker has shown the driver at my apartment complex for at least ten minutes, I get a phone call.

Driver: “This is [Pizza Chain]. Is this [My Name]?”

Me: “That’s me.”

Driver: “Hey, I’ve got your pizza. I’ve been driving around, but I can’t find your building.”

Me: “Oh, did you not get the instructions I added to the order?”

Driver: “No, I did, but I didn’t come in the way you said.”

Me: “Ah, that’s the problem; if you come in through the other gate, it doesn’t connect, so you have to come out and back in through Gate #1.”

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence as I wait for him to acknowledge this; the moment stretches out for way too long. Finally…

Driver: “So, I’m out by the pool. Are you gonna come to get your pizza?”

Me: “All right, I’m headed your way. Just hang on a moment.”

I slip my shoes on and head down two flights of stairs and all the way across the parking lot. The pool is right behind the leasing office, in the middle of the complex, bordered by blocks of apartments on three sides with parking lots on the other side of all three, so I’m not sure exactly where I’m heading, but he’s still on the phone.

Me: “Which side of the pool are you on?”

Driver: “I’m right by the gate.”

I head out to the front gates, looking for his car. The gates are up by the leasing office, so I take that sidewalk, and there’s a car out there, but the young lady behind the wheel backs out, heads for the exit, and drives away. I keep going and head around the corner, not seeing anybody. The driver is still on the phone, but he hasn’t said anything in a good minute and a half. I come across another car in the middle of the parking lot, but it’s standing open with no one in sight.

Me: “I’m sorry, where did you say you were?”

Driver: “Did you come out to the pool?”

Surely not, I think, but I cut through building eight and discovered that he had, in fact, left his car in the parking and lot and decided he would randomly wait for me leaning against the walk-gate into the actual pool enclosure… which I’m sure wasn’t at all creepy and threatening for the two young girls swimming by themselves.

Sometimes I think online ordering needs to let you decrease a tip retroactively. At least the pizza was good.