I am working at a small pizza take-out store. Due to the owner’s schedule, we don’t open until noon, but shifts can last past midnight.

A customer comes in with a complaint.

Customer: “I was in here this morning, and you got my order completely wrong! All the meat was missing when we got home!”

I am thinking he came in before we closed around 2:00 am.

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry about that. I’ll look up the order. What was the name and time you came in?”

Customer: “I came in at eight.”

Me: “Eight… in the morning?”

Customer: “Yeah! I came in right before work, and then when I got there with the pizza, it was wrong!”

Me: “Sir, we don’t open until noon.”

He stands there for a moment with a dumb look on his face, and I tentatively point over to the big “Hours” sign hanging in our window, which is transparent enough for the backward words “Open At Noon” to be visible through it.

Customer: “That’s entrapment!”

Me: *Totally confused* “What?”

Customer: “You knew I was lying, and you played dumb to trick me. That’s entrapment! You can’t do that!”

My manager walks out to see what the shouting is about, and the man walks toward the door, pointing back at us the whole way.

Customer: “You’d better educate yourself! That’s entrapment!”

My manager turns to me once the guy has left.

Manager: “What was that about?”

Me: *Shrugging* “I honestly have no idea.”

I work at a pizza place. Our usual register girl was scheduled as a closer instead of during the day, like me. I already don’t like her, as she never lets anyone else touch the register unless they have to, like the drivers for receipts. She also hogs all the tips. We don’t have a dining area, so there are not a lot of tips left at the register, but she makes sure she gets all of them.

I have received like $30 in tips that day (good tip day) and she came in, saw me at the register and the following conversation happened.

Coworker: “I can take over from here.”

Me: “No, I’m good. I’m signed in on register for today.”

Coworker: *Sees my stack of tip receipts* “Why aren’t these in the receipt bin?”

Me: *Not thinking* “Those are my tips.”

Coworker: “No they’re not. No one gets tips but me.”

Me: “No, whoever is on register gets tips. I was on register. They are my tips.”

Coworker: “You need to give these to me. They are mine.”

Me: “No, I earned them. Get on makeline and let me do what I was assigned.”

She stomps off to find our manager, and I have to start profusely apologizing to the four sets of customers that have walked in. She then comes back:

Coworker: “[Shift Manager] says you need to give me those tips, and go get on makeline.”

The shift manager then walks up.

Shift Manager: “No, I said you need to stop being a controlling a**hole and let her do the job I assigned her. You are assigned to make line for the rest of your shift. Touch the register today unless it’s to clock out or clean it, and I’m writing you up.”

She didn’t bother me again, and I earned a good $40 in tips.

It is my second week of work at this pizza place. It is about 9:10 at night and I’m just starting my cleanup when a car pulls up to the pickup window. Keep in mind that we close at 9:00; that means the ovens are off and we can’t take any more orders.

As far as I know, we don’t have any orders left to be picked up, so I walk up to the window, already slightly flustered.

Customer: “Hi, I’m here to place an order. It’s for [Customer]. I want…”

She starts to rattle off an order for a LOT of pizzas before I interrupt her.

Me: “Um, I’m sorry, we’re closed. We can’t take any more orders. T- the ovens off; I can’t do anything for you.”

She looks shocked like I just slapped her.

Customer: “No, that’s not right. I called and ordered like thirty-five minutes ago.”

Now I’m embarrassed, assuming I misheard her and she is here to pick up an order, which I am almost sure we don’t have.

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were trying to order. Can I have a name and I’ll go see if it’s ready?”

She gives me the order’s name and I go in the back to see if her order is ready. Of course, there is nothing. The cook says there hasn’t been an order in the last forty-five minutes or so. Now thoroughly confused and even more flustered, I walk back to the customer who I notice is texting on her phone.

Me: “Hi. So, unfortunately, we don’t have your order; are you sure you called here? I know there’s another [Pizza Place] down in [City]; maybe you accidentally called there, instead?”

She looks exaggeratingly offended with her mouth hanging open, looking like she’s about to cry.

Customer: “You’re telling me that I called the wrong place, that I have the wrong number in my phone! I know [Boss] and I can call her. This is ridiculous! I think I know which [Pizza Place] I called!”

I’m an eighteen-year-old who has never had a job before, and I am quickly intimidated by this customer who looks to be on the verge of angry tears. I quickly backtrack and start apologizing, hoping she won’t bother my boss, who is at home taking a day off.

She starts saying how she wants so and so pizzas and I stop her, recognizing the order.

Me: “Wait, did you order a…”

I rattle off the pizzas I know were in the order.

Customer: “Yes! That’s exactly what I ordered! God, why didn’t you say you had it?!”

We don’t have it, at least not anymore.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that order was called in for a delivery to [Location]; they left with the pizzas around twenty minutes ago.”

Customer: “I know that!” *Scoffs* I’m here to pay for it!”

I’m getting less flustered and more annoyed with her. I go pull her order up on the computer and give her the total, but that’s not good enough for her. She ignores me and starts talking on the phone with someone.

Customer: *To phone* “I know, I’m right here and they won’t… So, you got them already? Yeah, I know, I’m trying to get—”

Right at that moment, the delivery driver walks through the door and is laughing with the cook. I overhear him saying that the last delivery he did — as in the order I’ve been dealing with for the past twenty minutes — gave him a forty-dollar tip.

I turn around and tell the customer that the delivery was already paid for and I point out my coworker. 

Customer: “No, I’m here to get our change back. My friend said that the driver didn’t give him change back.”

I was beyond exasperated but still worried about getting in trouble, so I told the problem to my coworkers. They ended up giving her the forty bucks back and she finally left. My coworkers and I just looked at each other in disbelief. 

We ended up with no tip for an eighty-dollar-plus order, thirty minutes behind on cleanup, and still wondering what was going through that woman’s mind.

I am out for a walk in my neighborhood, rolling my eyes at all the cars blazing past well over the speed limit. I notice one car going a sane speed, and it happens to have a pizza delivery magnet on the top. I call the store.

Worker: “[Pizza Place], is this for carryout or delivery?”

Me: “Neither, I just wanted to compliment a driver. Is there a manager I can talk to for a moment?”

Worker: *To the manager* “She wants to talk to you; says it’s a compliment for a driver.”

Manager: *To the worker* “Ugh, another— Wait, what? Compliment? Are you sure?”

Worker: *To the manager* “That’s what she told me. Here, she wants to talk to you.”

Manager: *To me, a little hesitantly* “Hello, you wanted a manager?”

Me: “Just wanted to tell you your delivery driver in [make and model of car] is doing a great job observing the speed limit. None of the other drivers are.”

Manager: “Wow, no one ever calls except to order or complain. I’ll let the driver know, thanks!”

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for October 2020!

Read the next Feel Good roundup story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for October 2020!

Every Saturday, my friends and I order pizza from a famous chain in New Zealand, well known for their advertisements on the TV with their phone number sung in the background. One Saturday, we put in our order as usual and wait for the delivery person. The doorbell rings.

Delivery Man: “Hello, I’ve got an order of four pizzas, a garlic bread, Sprite, and fries?”

Me: “Yes, that’s us! Thank you!”

As I’m picking up the pizza from the doorstep — due to distancing rules in my country — I notice something odd.

Me: “Um, there’s only the pizza here. Where’s everything else?”

Delivery Man: “What do you mean? You ordered pizza; there’s the pizza.”

Me: “We also ordered three sides. You listed them when you arrived.”

Delivery Man: “Have you got any proof of that?”

He listed it off his list when he arrived, it’s on the receipt stapled to the pizza box, and I have an email stating what we bought.

I pull out my phone with the confirmation email and prove it.

Delivery Man: “Hmm. Oh, well, I just bring what they put in the bag. Not my problem if they didn’t put it in the bag.”

Me: “Well, can you go back to the store and get the other items, please?”

Delivery Man: “No, this isn’t my fault, so it’s not my problem. Ring them if you’ve got an issue.”

Me: “Um, it kind of is your problem, though, because you haven’t delivered what we bought.”

Delivery Man: “Fine. I’ll go get them, then.”

He walked off suddenly. My friends and I made do, but he never returned with our items. I tried to call their corporate number, but it just rang or hung up on me. After a serious search on the Internet, I find the store franchise phone number and call them, only for them to tell me that they stopped using their famous phone number, despite still having it listed all over their website and Google. In the end, the delivery driver was told off for his attitude and lying to me, and we got free sides the next week. We’ve been put off, though, and I don’t think we’ll keep ordering from there!