A man comes in and has a slice and a beer at the bar. He asks for a glass of water and I bring it with his ticket. He hangs out for about forty-five minutes to an hour, watching the game on one of the TVs. At some point, after he’s paid, I notice he’s gone, so I grab his empty dishes. Seeing his keys still on the counter, I leave his glass of water, assuming he’s in the bathroom.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, I see him come out of the restroom, but instead of going back to the bar, he walks to the front door. I grab his keys and chase after him, calling out, “Sir!”

I catch up to him just outside on the patio. He pats his pockets and then turns to me.

Me: “Forget something?”

I hold the keys out to him, reading the keychain on them.

Keychain: “Keys I Haven’t Lost Yet.”

I am the only counter girl this day, and since it’s evening, we are pretty busy. I try to get through my customers quickly and usually effortlessly, but some people just do not understand how ordering food works.

Me: “[Pizza Store], pickup or delivery?”

The customer orders a cheesesteak with onions and peppers.

Me: “All right, now are those fried or raw onions? And what kind of peppers?”

Customer: “Uh, fried, I guess. And hot peppers.”

Me: “Okay, but what kind of hot peppers?”

Customer: “Hot.”

I already know where this is going.

Me: “Yes, but jalapeño or banana?” 

Customer: “The cut-up ones.”

Me: “They’re both cut up.”

Customer: “Banana, I guess! And a large salad with chicken tenders.”

Me: Okay, what kind of salad?”

Customer: “Chicken tender salad.”

Me: “Yes, salad with chicken tenders, but what kind of salad?”

Customer: “A normal f****** salad!”

He hands the phone to his girlfriend, who inevitably repeats him, and we spend a few more minutes going back and forth.

Me: “Okay, do you want a Caesar salad—”

Girlfriend: “No Caesar! I want ranch!”

Me: “No, a Caesar salad, it has—”

Girlfriend: “No, normal salad with just chicken tenders.”

Me: “Do you want [list of salad ingredients]?”

Girlfriend: “Yes, with chicken tenders.”

Me: “Okay, that is a garden salad with chicken tenders.”

Girlfriend: “No, that’s a normal salad.”

I finished the call and had to go clean tables because I couldn’t deal with another customer for a bit.

Related:
When A Simple Salad Isn’t

A woman, a young man, and a boy come into our restaurant and sit down. I greet them, bring their drinks, and start taking their order. The woman points to the young man that I assume is an older son.

Woman: “He’s gonna have two slices of cheese.” *Points to the boy* “He’s gonna have one slice of cheese, and I’m gonna have a slice of pepperoni. How much is that gonna be?”

Me: “Each slice of cheese is about $2.50, and the pepperoni is about $3. With your drinks, we’re looking at about $15, give or take for tax.”

She approves and I send the order in. Just before their slices come out, the woman calls me back over.

Woman: “So, my boyfriend is at home, and he wants me to bring him two slices of cheese. Would it just be better to get a medium pizza? How many slices is that?”

Me: “A medium pizza is six slices. It’s a little smaller, and I can ask the kitchen if they can do just one slice as pepperoni for you. If we stuck with the 5 slices of cheese and one pepperoni, it’d be about $20. If we went for a medium, we’re looking at about $16. It’s a smaller pizza than our slice pies, so the slices would be a tad smaller, but it’s a better deal if we only want six. A large pizza would still be about $20, but we’d have eight slices, and it’d be more like the size of our slice pies.”

Woman: “Well, we don’t need eight slices, so let’s just do a medium.”

Me: “No problem, I’ll let the kitchen know. It’ll probably be about seven to ten minutes.”

I step up to the kitchen. I see the cook putting this table’s first order in the window. I let him know she’s changed her mind, and he quickly starts on her new pizza. Fortunately, we are busy enough that the slices don’t go to waste.

About ten minutes later, as the cook is pulling her pizza out of the oven, she calls me back over. She asks for her food in a box and the check, as they need to be somewhere. I quickly box it up and bring her the check. I set her pizza on the table and open it to show her. She scrunches up her face.

Woman: “What is this? I asked for individual slices!”

Me: “I thought we discussed a medium pie instead, as it was better priced?”

Woman: “Yes! There are six slices in a medium. I ordered six slices. And you were just going to charge me for a medium. Because it’s a better price.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t exactly charge you for one thing and bring you something else. I can get in trouble for that. I apologize for the misunderstanding, and I can ask the kitchen to remake your first order. But I will have to charge for each individual slice, and it will be closer to $20.”

Woman: *Sighing, pulls out a card* “I guess this will have to do. We don’t have time to wait. Here.”

She hands me her card, and I walk back to the register. As I return with the slip for her to sign, she is pulling out her slice of pepperoni, holding it in the air by the corner of the crust. She makes another face and looks at me.

Woman: “Okay, but why are these so small? They’re like school lunch pieces.”

I look at the table. The box will hold a 12″ pizza, and the edges are practically bulging with the somewhat oversized pizza inside.

Me: “Again, I apologize for the confusion. But it is a smaller pie, so the slices will be a bit smaller than our individual slices. If you’d like, we can still order some bigger slices, but it will be about five to ten minutes before they come out.”

Woman: *Flatly* “You gonna charge me for ’em?”

Me: “I don’t have the authority to give away food, but I can ask my manager to step over if you’d like.”

Woman: *Sighing again* “Ugh. Whatever. Just bring me a to-go cup.”

I look at the boys that came in with her. Aside from ordering drinks, they have been completely silent the entire time. I ask them if they need to-go cups also, but the woman interrupts, saying that they don’t need anything.

Within minutes, they were out the door. She didn’t tip. I wish I could say she was the only person that day that wanted me to give them something but charge them for something different that’s cheaper.

Related:
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 5
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 4
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 3
A Hot Slice Of Justice, Part 2
A Hot Slice Of Justice

The phone rings.

Customer: “Hi. Do you guys sell boba tea?”

Me: “I’m sorry, we do not.”

Customer: “Do you have boba tea?”

Me: “No, ma’am, we do not. To be completely honest, I’m not even totally sure what boba tea is. But we do have regular iced tea.”

Customer: “Well, Google says you have it!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but that information is incorrect. We do not, nor have we ever had boba tea.”

Customer: “You need to get it! Can you do that for me?”

Me: “Um. I’ll let management know. Thanks for the suggestion.”

Customer: “And call me when you have it!” *Click*

Related:
Burst Their Bubble Tea

In my grocery store, you’re able to order a fresh pizza and have it ready to be paid for within fifteen minutes. They’re actually quite good. On Fridays, we have a pizza sale and usually see about eighty to ninety pizzas throughout the day. It’s hectic and messy, but it’s our job.

With that said, we have one customer who calls to order a pizza frequently. He knows our sales and he knows how long it takes for us to make his order. He decides to call about ten minutes before we shut down the pizza ovens on a Thursday night, so technically, we still have to make his order. He orders five veggie pizzas with his usual group of toppings.

My coworker and I both work on the pizzas and have his order done within a half-hour, given some of his toppings we don’t have in the back yet. We place it on top of the oven to keep warm as we wait for him to pick it up. Eight pm rolls around and he hasn’t shown up. After my coworker assures me that she can take care of the pizzas, I walk out to clock out of my shift for the night.

The next day, the coworker who helped me is there looking beyond annoyed.

Me: “How did last night go?”

Coworker: “So… you left at eight, right? He didn’t show up until nine! I had the ovens on most of that time to keep the pizzas warm until he came, and he still complained that they were too cold!”

Me: “Oh? Yikes… I know it’s not as fresh as straight out of the oven, but we did tell him how long it’d take.”

Coworker: “Yeah, well, he told me that he was in a huge car accident on his way here and I guess I’m just wondering why he wasn’t in the hospital if he was, or why getting a pizza was his first thought. But that’s not my biggest issue. Did you hear him say anything about cheesy crust?”

Me: “Uh… no? He didn’t mention anything about—”

Coworker: “Yeah, apparently, he wanted us to stuff cheese into the crust. I don’t know how the h*** to do that! Not without destroying the dough we have! So he threatened to report you for screwing that up. But that’s not the best part.”

Me: “There’s a better part aside from being threatened to be reported?!”

Coworker: “He demanded we give him the sale price, even though it was Thursday! I told him that that sale was only on Fridays. He told me that no, I didn’t know what I was talking about, and he says that it was during the weekend. I told him that no, it was Fridays. He eventually took the pizzas with their actual price but not before telling me I should be fearing for my job.”

Me: “He knows when the Friday sale is, though?”

Coworker: “Yeah, well. He just wanted a few extra bucks off his pizzas and I wasn’t going to give it to him for that. If I were you, I’d talk to [Store Manager] about that, though, just in case he did report you to them.”

I did talk to them, explaining what happened and what my coworker told me, and they understood. As far as I know, I’m good… and we wondered if he would order another pizza tonight just for the sake of the sale. He didn’t.

Related:
Getting A Pizza His Mind, Part 2
Getting A Pizza His Mind