I am delivering pizzas at an apartment building. As I get out of my car, a woman approaches me.
Woman: “What apartment is that for?”
Me: “306.”
Woman: “306? Oh, okay. We haven’t ordered yet.”
Me: “…”
As we don’t have any psychics or a time machine, we were unable to deliver her food before she had ordered it.
We have a special on three of our pizzas. I am on the register and my coworker is in the back.
Customer: “What are your specials?”
Me: “We have a large Hawaiian, a large sausage, or a large pepperoni for $8.”
Customer: “How many toppings can I get on the $8 pizza?”
Me: “Well, it is one of three choices: the Hawaiian, the sausage, or the pepperoni.”
Customer: “But how many toppings can I get for the $8 deal?”
Me: “Our $8 deal is for the Hawaiian pizza, the pepperoni pizza, or the sausage pizza.”
I am becoming really frustrated and extremely disheartened about society because this isn’t that hard to understand.
My coworker comes up front, hearing some frustration in my voice.
Coworker: “What seems to be the problem here?”
I explain what I’ve said and the customer’s question. He then looks at her and says the same thing I’ve been saying for five minutes.
Customer: “So, I can get a Hawaiian for $8? That’s all I wanted to know!”
I facepalmed. After that customer left, the customer that had been behind her looked at me and told me I had handled that situation well. She also told me that she really thought about telling this customer what comes on the three pizzas that were $8.
We get a walk-in customer.
Customer: “We want the large one-topping pizza for $6.”
Me: “Awesome! What topping would you like on that?”
Customer: “Mushroom and pepper.”
Me: “Which peppers would you like? Jalapeño, banana, or green? And just so you know, it will be a little extra for the second topping.”
Customer: “Okay, yeah, we want the one for $10. And jalapeños aren’t spicy, right?”
Me: “Jalapeños are spicy, actually.”
Customer: “Okay, green peppers and mushrooms, then. For $10.”
Me: “Okay, that will actually only be about $8.”
Customer: “Okay, and bacon.”
Me: “Okay. So, a large mushroom, green pepper, and bacon?”
Customer: “Yes.”
I ring it through and cash them out.
Me: “I’ll have that ready for you in about ten minutes.”
Customer: “Is the hot sauce spicy?”
Me: “A little, why?”
Customer: “Only put the hot sauce on half the pizza, then.”
Me: *Confused* “You didn’t order anything with hot sauce on it.”
Customer: “The chicken! The chicken pizza with the hot sauce!”
Me: “Oh, did you want to order another pizza with that on it?”
Customer: “No, no… On the pizza. The chicken… hot sauce on half.”
Me: “You didn’t order anything with chicken on it… or hot sauce.”
Customer: “The pizza! With the chicken! Only put hot sauce on half!”
Me: “You didn’t order anything with chicken. You have a large with mushroom, green pepper, and bacon.”
Customer: “No! Chicken… mushroom… banana pepper.”
Me: “Okay, I’ll change that for you. And hot sauce on half?”
Customer: *Exasperated* “Yes!”
A coworker is on the phone with a lady ordering pizza. She can barely understand the customer; her voice is muffled.
Coworker: “Ma’am, are you wearing a mask?”
Customer: “Yes. I don’t want to get corona from you.”
I’m surprised that the lady didn’t want the pizza faxed to her.
This story is part of our Anti-Masker roundup. This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!
Grocery Workers – We Salute You!
Read the next Anti-Masker roundup story!
Read the Anti-Masker roundup!
I work at the front desk at a hotel on the night shift. We have a cupboard where guests can buy food. It has some frozen meals, but we don’t carry frozen pizza. A few guests ask once in a while, but, usually, guests will just order a pizza if they want one or go to the store that’s literally right next door and buy one.
One night, I come in, do my standard shift opening duties, and a guest comes down to the cupboard and asks if we have any frozen pizza. I tell him sorry, we do not, but [Pizza Chain] is up the street and if he doesn’t care for that, there are three other chains that can deliver to our hotel until 1:00 am. Or, the store next door is open twenty-four hours. He goes upstairs disappointed.
About an hour later, when all is quiet, I take my dinner — leftover homemade pizza — to the break room, heat it up, and go back to the office where I can eat and also be available to jump onto the front desk if need be.
But, as I pass by the front desk to get to the office, I see the same guy standing at the counter and I put down my food and go see what he needs. It goes downhill from there.
Guest: “I thought you didn’t have pizza!”
Me: “We don’t. That’s my personal pizza I brought from home. What can I do to help you?”
He gets super upset and starts demanding that I either, a) give him my pizza, or b) pay for his pizza that he was going to order.
Me: “I can do neither of those things, but, if you have a problem, you can always contact my general manager or sales specialist and suggest we put frozen pizza in the pantry.”
Guest: “That’s a useless option, since I don’t stay here all the time, and I never will anymore because you don’t have freaking frozen pizza!”
