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*

Do Everything All At Once A Minute Ago

| MO, USA | Working | July 4, 2017

(At the time this takes place, the Cardinals are playing the final game of the World Series. When making the schedule, my boss didn’t account for the team going into the seventh game, and we end up being short staffed. There are only four employees inside the store, including a shift lead, and we are all working hard to keep up with the orders. On the cooks’ screen in the back there is a production time which says how long it will take the last order on the screen to be completed. By default this number is twelve minutes and each pizza raises that number by one. Currently I have two pizzas on the screen making the number fourteen. Coworker #1 and Shift Lead are taking orders on the phone and hang up roughly the same time, sending me another six pizzas total, making production time twenty. Shift Lead comes back and notices.)

Shift Lead: “Production time is 20 minutes? That’s unacceptable! You’re too slow.”

Me: “Sorry, you and [Coworker #1] sent me six pizzas at the same time; there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Shift Lead: “Sure there is. You can work faster! Make [Coworker #1] help you. That’s what he’s here for.”

Me: “He’s been on the phone since he walked in the door! He tried and you told him that leaving the phones ringing was ‘unacceptable.’”

Shift Lead: “Work faster or next time we’ll find someone else.”

Me: *under my breath* “You mean I wouldn’t have to work on one of the busiest days of the year? I’d be devastated.”

(We manage to slow down enough for Coworker #1 to get off the phones and with his help we clear the screen. I ask him to watch the table for me briefly while I run to the restroom. I am gone maybe two minutes. When I come back, Coworker #1 has been put on the phone again, there are five pizzas on the screen, and somehow there is pizza sauce down the front of the table, across the floor, under the oven, and even splashed up the oven’s side. Before I can even make heads or tails of what happened another order pops up bringing the production time up to nineteen minutes so I immediately get to work on the orders. Shift Lead approaches.)

Shift Lead: “I don’t know what happened, but this is the result.”

Me: “I don’t know either. I was in the restroom.”

(He stares at me, making me uncomfortable.)

Shift Lead: “So you’re just not going to clean that up?”

Me: “I didn’t do that.”

Shift Lead: “I didn’t say you did, but that mess is unacceptable. You need to clean that up.”

Me: *pointing to screen which is now up to twenty-one minutes* “You also said having a production time of twenty minutes was unacceptable.”

Shift Lead: “It is! You need to work harder.”

Me: “So which would you like for me to do?”

(It should be noting that during this entire exchange I am making pizzas while he just stands behind me.)

Shift Lead: “You need to do both. You can’t leave this mess here and if that time gets too high we’ll get a phone call from corporate. Fix it.”

Me: “I can’t do both at the same time. Whoever made the mess needs to come clean it.”

Shift Lead: “I don’t know who did it!”

Me: “There’s only four of us here! I didn’t do it. You didn’t do it. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out from there.”

Shift Lead: “It needs to be cleaned up and the production time can’t be that high.”

Me: “I can’t do both at the same time! Which would you like for me to do?”

(He gets angry and stomps by me to go around the corner to, I assume, grab a mop, but stops.)

Shift Lead: “You can either stay here and argue with me all night or you can go home.”

Me: “Wait, those are my two options? Argue with you or go home?” *I drop the toppings I’d been holding onto the current pizza* “See ya!”

(I assumed he meant to say I could stop arguing with him or go home, but I’d have done the same thing either way. As soon as I was out the door I called my store manager and explained the situation to her. The next day I repeated the incident to the district manager as well. The shift lead was asked what he was expecting me to do to which he replied “What I told her to do.” The district manager told him he was in the wrong. The shift lead demoted himself to driver stating he couldn’t work under management who took the word of low level employees over the word of its own management team. I got a slap on the wrist for leaving early.)

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