I work in a mom-and-pop pizza place; I’ve been there for about three months. I generally show up about twenty minutes early every day and am asked to start working right away. I’m always willing, but I clock in first.

One day, the owners come to talk to me.

Owners: “Why do you always clock in early?”

Me: “I’m always asked to start working when I get here, and I always get here early.”

Owners: “You can’t clock in early. Just work off the clock for that time. We will change your time card to reflect what time you are supposed to start.”

Keep in mind, all of my coworkers have gotten used to me getting there early, so sometimes they leave early.

The next day, I was scheduled to work at 5:00. As usual, the day crew expected me to be there early and work, so three of the four workers clocked off at 4:30. Since I was told that I wouldn’t get paid, I decided to show up at 4:59. I clocked in right at 5:00.

In the half-hour that those three people were off, $200 worth of food was ordered.

I’m eating a pizza with a friend. When there’s only one slice left, I notice a hair baked into the crust. I go to complain.

Me: “There’s a hair baked into this pizza. I’d like a discount on our bill, please.”

Clerk: “I can get you another pizza.”

Me: “We just ate the entire pizza before we realized it was unsanitary. I don’t want another pizza; I’d like a discount.”

Clerk: “All I can offer you is another pizza.”

I take the hair in my fingers and lift. The entire slice rises. I hold it, dangling in the air by the hair for several seconds.

Clerk: “I’ll get you a discount.”

Years ago, my sister and I were sharing a pizza at a nationwide pizza place. A young child was being allowed to run rampant around the dining room. Just as my sister extended her leg to slide out of our booth, the kid came zipping up, tripped over my sister’s leg, and did a Superman pose, flying for about five feet, just missing a waitress carrying a full tray.

He stopped running after that.

My sister was so horrified that she hid in the bathroom for about five minutes.

Me: “Hi there. What was the name for your order?”

Customer: “Smith.”

I look at my order screen and see two orders where the only name given is Smith. Fortunately, customers also have to give a phone number in case we need to contact them.

Me: “Okay, ma’am, we have two orders for Smith. Can I ask the phone number you gave for the order?”

Customer: “It’s under Smith.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I know, but I have more than one order for Smith, so if you could give me the phone number you used, I can determine which order is yours.”

Customer: “I don’t know. My daughter put it in under Smith. Just give me my order.”

Me: “Okay, do you know what she ordered? I can look for that, then.”

Customer: “Smith, it’s under Smith. Why is this so difficult for you?!”

Me: “Ma’am, there is more than one person named Smith that ordered tonight. I need either the phone number or at least what was ordered so I know which order is yours. I don’t want to give you the wrong order and then also not have the other customer’s order.”

Customer: “I don’t know the number. Just give me my order.”

Me: “Ma’am, at this point, if you can’t give me any way of knowing which one is yours, I can’t. If you’d like to call your daughter for that, then I can help you. Otherwise, the best I can tell you is to wait for the other Smith order to come in, and then I’ll know which order is yours.”

Customer: “This is stupid. I just want my pizza.”

She walks off dialing her phone. I ring out several customers while she’s standing off to the side talking to, I hope, her daughter on her phone. Eventually, a man comes up and says he’s there for Smith, I explain the two orders, and he chuckles as he gives me his number. I ring him out and give him his food.

Me: “Ma’am, I can ring you out now. I know which one is yours.”

Customer: “You mean I still have to pay after waiting this long?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t tell which one was yours until now.”

She says into the phone that we’re charging her.

Customer: “My husband says we shouldn’t have to pay since you made me wait.”

She paid and then complained to corporate. Thankfully, the area VP called to ask what happened. When we told him, he said there was no way she was getting anything for not knowing what she ordered. Folks, please, at the very least, give a first AND last name on orders so this doesn’t happen.

Me: “Yes, ma’am, your pizza will be done in twenty minutes, and then you can—”

Caller: “Make sure it is a supreme.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, we will most certainly check for—”

Caller: “B-but I might be a little late on picking it up as I’m very slow.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I will have it hot a—”

Caller: “A-and is it okay if I add a two-liter Coke, as well, to my order?” 

Me: “Yes, ma’am, that brings your total to [amount] and how will—”

Caller: “All right, I will pay when I get there. How much longer for my pizza?”

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, but if you keep interrupting me, then—” 

Caller: “Me? Interrupting you? Man, you must be daydreaming. I’ll finish up when I get there! Good God!” *Click*