(I’m at home, waiting for pizza delivery. I live on the second floor. The apartments in my building are all above ground level with dark wooden doors with knockers. Downstairs is a basement for each apartment, with white doors with large numbers down a dark and dingy hallway. Right around the time the pizza should arrive, I hear someone enter the building and go downstairs, and then a loud pounding. There’s a pause and then more pounding. I look outside and see a car with the pizza place’s logo. Figuring this delivery person must be new and got confused, I go downstairs and find her in the basement.)

Me: “Hi! I think that’s my pizza. Are you looking for apartment three?”

Delivery: “Yes. This is number three.” *points at basement door*

Me: “Yeah, that’s the basement for number three. The apartment is actually upstairs.”

Delivery: “But this is number three.” *knocks again*

Me: “It’s the basement for number three. My apartment is upstairs. The receipt says it’s for [My Name], right? Pepperoni and green pepper?”

Delivery: “Yes, but this is number three.” *finally starts to walk towards me*

Me: “Right, it is, but it’s the basement. The apartments are upstairs.” *quickly grabs and signs tip and receipt* “Thank you!”

Delivery: *as she is walking away* “But that was number three…”

I’m the idiot in this one. A last-minute order comes in for delivery and I am the one who takes it to the customer. By the time the order is ready to go, it is past our weekend closing time of 1:00 am. I have been at work since 5:00 pm and am very tired and eager to get back so I can finish my duties and go home. It is also important to note that I have severe anxiety and sometimes use a CBD-filled vape to help calm me on worse days.

The transaction with the customer is uneventful until it comes time for them to sign their credit card receipt. I hand them the receipt, then reach into my pocket and hand them what I think is a pen to sign with. It isn’t until the “pen” is in the customer’s hand that I realize I’ve accidentally given them my vape!

Cue awkward apologies and silence for the rest of the transaction. Luckily, my manager is super chill and laughed at the whole thing when I told him about it, but to this day I have not lived it down.

(I work at a family-owned pizza parlor. I receive a call for delivery, and I swear the caller is housing an angry demon, based on the crashing noises in the background.)

Me: “This is [Restaurant]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Um, yeah, can I order a pizza I don’t want?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Caller: “Like, I don’t want it now…”

Me: “Oh, you want to order ahead?”

Caller: “Yeah!”

Me: “Okay, we can do that.”

Caller: “I need it ready by seven… o’clock… pm.”

Me: “Sounds good. What did you want to order?”

Caller: “Oh, uh, a small cheese pizza.”

Me: “Okay! We’ll have it ready for you!”

(There’s a huge crash from his end.) 

Caller: “Good Lord! I need to make that a large, please!”

Me: “Yes, sir… Um, can I have a name for that order, please?”

Caller: “Ben.” *another huge crash* “Fine! Benjamin if you want me to be formal.”

Me: “Thank you, sir. Your pizza will be ready at seven.”

(I work at a family-owned pizza parlor. An older lady orders a supreme with extra-extra cheese. This is about thirty minutes after she left with her pizza.)

Customer: “You gave me the wrong pizza!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that, ma’am. What did you order and what did we give you?”

Customer: “I ordered a supreme and you gave me a f****** cheese pizza!”

Me: “Ma’am, were you the order with extra cheese?”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: “Did you look under the cheese?”

Customer: “What? Why would I… Oh, sorry about that.”

Me: “That’s quite all right, ma’am. Have a nice day.”

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(I deliver pizzas, and the system we use has a map feature that shows where a delivery is supposed to go and what the best route would be to get there. It also has a feature that suggests locations if an address is entered incorrectly. Late one night, a customer phones in and has a very soft, high-pitched voice that is very difficult to understand. My coworker tries her best to put in what she thinks she hears, but the system doesn’t recognize the address. As it’s my delivery, I call the customer back to try to get her address fixed.)

Me: “Hi, this is [Pizza Place]. Our system isn’t recognizing your address, so I’m calling to see if we can fix that.”

Customer: “Okay.” *to someone in the background* “What’s our address?”

(I hear an unintelligible background voice.)

Customer: “It’s 1234 [mumble] Drive.”

Me: *pause* “Could you spell that out for me?”

Customer: “I think it’s S-A-T-O-I-N-G.”

Me: *pause* “Okay… let me read that back. That’s S as in ‘sierra,’ A as in ‘apple,’ T as in ‘tango,’ O as in ‘octagon,’ I as in ‘igloo,’ N as in ‘November, G as in ‘grape.’”

Customer: “Yeah, that’s right.”

Me: *now thinking this might be a prank* “Okay… We’ll get that out as soon as we can.”

(I typed in the address she gave, and the first address the system suggested was 1234 Sapling Drive. Thankfully, that was the correct address, but I had to really bite my tongue when I arrived. Someone CLEARLY wasn’t paying attention.)