Tweet
First off, hello y'all! Found my way over here from Jennie Breeden's site, and now I'm hooked.
I worked in a small pizza shop for a year. For some reason, people seem to go utterly bugnuts when food is involved, and they went especially bugnuts in this particular restaurant. Maybe it just exuded subtle psycho hormones. Who knows? At any rate, it quickly became a treasure trove of SC stories for me.
There's one in particular that sticks out in my mind right now.
Cast of characters:
Sucktastic customer: SC
Poor hapless coworker: CW
Me. DB, Waitress Extraordinaire: Me.
So it's just before our football-Friday-dinner rush, and the phone rings. CW answers.
CW: "Thanks for calling (name of restaurant); will this be pickup or delivery?"
CW listens as loony on the other end is screaming. I'm standing a few feet away and I can hear the screaming...just can't make out what's being said.
CW: "Hold on, ma'am, I'll pass the phone to our waitstaff supervisor." She looks at me with this please-don't-shoot-me look on her face and tells me that the SC wants to speak to (quote) a responsible party (end quote). Meh, no big deal. I take the phone.
Me: "Waitstaff supervisor speaking, my name is DB. How may I help you?"
SC: "I want to order a pizza for delivery." ...Okay. And you need this order to be taken by specifically me why?
Me: "Sure thing, ma'am. Can I get your name, address, and phone number?"
SC: "Well, you should already have that on file in your computer system, so I don't think I need to waste my time."
Me: "Ma'am, we're a very small shop and still kind of stuck in the Stone Age in some respects. We don't actually have a computer system. Shocking, isn't it." I figure maybe a little levity will get this woman to chill a wee bit.
SC: "Well, you ought to. No wonder you idiots always mess my order up." Apparently, levity offends her. Le gasp.
Me: "I appreciate your giving us another chance, ma'am. If you'll just go ahead and give me your name, address, and phone number, we can get started on taking your order. I'll even call you before it leaves the restaurant so that we can be absolutely sure that it's correct." Kill 'em with kindness, right?
SC: "Yeah, you'd better." She gives me her name, address, and all that. I double-check it to make sure I get it right, then commence with taking her order.
Me: "So, that's one pizza with pepperoni and one with green peppers and ham, to be delivered no later than 7:30."
SC: "Yes. Don't forget the green peppers. You guys ALWAYS forget the green peppers. I want my damn green peppers on my damn pizza, dammit!"
Me: "I'll make sure the cooks are aware of your emphasis on the green peppers, ma'am. Your total is $xx.xx. We will have this to you by 7:30. Thank you for calling." Translation: The cooks and I are going to make fun of you for hours as soon as I get off the phone with your crazy self.
SC: *click*
Okay, so that's great and that's fine. We get her pizzas made quickly, and just because we said we would, THREE of us stare at her green-peppers-and-ham pizza to verify that there are, in point of fact, damn green peppers on her damn pizza (dammit). The driver hustles on out the door with the pizzas while I phone the woman to tell her that we checked her order multiple times, that all is prepared exactly to her specifications, and that it should be there in approx. ten minutes. Time goes by, driver comes back to tell us that he got the pizzas to her at 7:23 on the dot (and she still didn't tip him), and that everything is proceeding normally.
Two hours go by. The restaurant is busier than beavers on speed. We're doin' our pizza-slinging thing, and all is going swimmingly. Then CW grabs me.
"DB. It's Damn Green Peppers Dammit. She's on the phone for you."
Oh, hell. I pick up the phone.
Me: "DB speaking, how may I help you?"
SC: "My pizzas were cold when they got here. And there are no green peppers. What are you, some kind of idiot?!" ...Wtf? This isn't happening.
Me: "Ma'am, the pizzas were in warming bags for less than seven minutes when they arrived at your doorstep. Two of my coworkers and I personally verified that the toppings on your pizzas were correct. I'm really not sure how the pizzas could have gotten cold or how the peppers could have disappeared."
SC: "Are you calling me a liar?" No, dear, I'm calling you an idiot. "I want fresh pizzas."
Me: "Well, ma'am, we're awfully busy right now. If--"
SC: "Fine. I'll bring them in. You'll have to replace them." *click*
Okay, fine, whatever. I go about my work. My boss (the owner, who happens to be crazier than most of the crazy customers) wants to know what's going on. I fill him in on everything, and he's cool with it. Things are peachy.
Then Sucktastic Customer comes in and starts screaming at me. She calls me every rude name in the book as she practically flings a pizza box across the counter at me. With my mad crazy waitress reflexes, I manage to catch it before it hits the floor. As per SOP, I open it up. There's two slices of pizza staring up at me, both liberally covered with green peppers. My crazy boss, my coworkers, and I all just stare at this woman for a second as she continues her rant. Finally, my boss speaks up.
Boss: "Lady. There's only two slices of pizza in here. And they've got a sh*tload of green peppers on 'em. You ate the rest of the damn pizza, waited two hours, then dragged your ass in here to bother me. The hell is the problem?" (Boss's native language is Expletive, and he's got quite a temper.)
SC: "That stupid little b*tch took my order wrong! And she was rude! And she called me names!" I dutifully grab the carbon copy of the order slip and hand it to my boss. He looks it over, then eyeballs Sucktastic Customer.
Boss: "This is exactly what you ordered." He turns to CW. "Did you hear DB say anything even remotely outta line to this woman?" CW, of course, says no. He looks back at SC. "What'd DB call you?"
SC: "...she called me a...a doody-head?" It's all I can do not to bust out laughing right then and there. Boss just stares at her for a couple seconds more.
Boss: "Get the hell outta my store, you dumb cow. Don't call us again. We're not cookin' sh*t for you. Now scram and quit infecting my space with your f**kin' stupid."
SC went scurrying out the door. In that moment, Crazy Boss was my hero...although there were a great many later moments where his behavior was, shall we say, less than stellar. Still, an amusing memory.
Y'all got any pizza-shop stories you wanna share? I got popcorn!
I worked in a small pizza shop for a year. For some reason, people seem to go utterly bugnuts when food is involved, and they went especially bugnuts in this particular restaurant. Maybe it just exuded subtle psycho hormones. Who knows? At any rate, it quickly became a treasure trove of SC stories for me.
There's one in particular that sticks out in my mind right now.
Cast of characters:
Sucktastic customer: SC
Poor hapless coworker: CW
Me. DB, Waitress Extraordinaire: Me.
So it's just before our football-Friday-dinner rush, and the phone rings. CW answers.
CW: "Thanks for calling (name of restaurant); will this be pickup or delivery?"
CW listens as loony on the other end is screaming. I'm standing a few feet away and I can hear the screaming...just can't make out what's being said.
CW: "Hold on, ma'am, I'll pass the phone to our waitstaff supervisor." She looks at me with this please-don't-shoot-me look on her face and tells me that the SC wants to speak to (quote) a responsible party (end quote). Meh, no big deal. I take the phone.
Me: "Waitstaff supervisor speaking, my name is DB. How may I help you?"
SC: "I want to order a pizza for delivery." ...Okay. And you need this order to be taken by specifically me why?
Me: "Sure thing, ma'am. Can I get your name, address, and phone number?"
SC: "Well, you should already have that on file in your computer system, so I don't think I need to waste my time."
Me: "Ma'am, we're a very small shop and still kind of stuck in the Stone Age in some respects. We don't actually have a computer system. Shocking, isn't it." I figure maybe a little levity will get this woman to chill a wee bit.
SC: "Well, you ought to. No wonder you idiots always mess my order up." Apparently, levity offends her. Le gasp.
Me: "I appreciate your giving us another chance, ma'am. If you'll just go ahead and give me your name, address, and phone number, we can get started on taking your order. I'll even call you before it leaves the restaurant so that we can be absolutely sure that it's correct." Kill 'em with kindness, right?
SC: "Yeah, you'd better." She gives me her name, address, and all that. I double-check it to make sure I get it right, then commence with taking her order.
Me: "So, that's one pizza with pepperoni and one with green peppers and ham, to be delivered no later than 7:30."
SC: "Yes. Don't forget the green peppers. You guys ALWAYS forget the green peppers. I want my damn green peppers on my damn pizza, dammit!"
Me: "I'll make sure the cooks are aware of your emphasis on the green peppers, ma'am. Your total is $xx.xx. We will have this to you by 7:30. Thank you for calling." Translation: The cooks and I are going to make fun of you for hours as soon as I get off the phone with your crazy self.
SC: *click*
Okay, so that's great and that's fine. We get her pizzas made quickly, and just because we said we would, THREE of us stare at her green-peppers-and-ham pizza to verify that there are, in point of fact, damn green peppers on her damn pizza (dammit). The driver hustles on out the door with the pizzas while I phone the woman to tell her that we checked her order multiple times, that all is prepared exactly to her specifications, and that it should be there in approx. ten minutes. Time goes by, driver comes back to tell us that he got the pizzas to her at 7:23 on the dot (and she still didn't tip him), and that everything is proceeding normally.
Two hours go by. The restaurant is busier than beavers on speed. We're doin' our pizza-slinging thing, and all is going swimmingly. Then CW grabs me.
"DB. It's Damn Green Peppers Dammit. She's on the phone for you."
Oh, hell. I pick up the phone.
Me: "DB speaking, how may I help you?"
SC: "My pizzas were cold when they got here. And there are no green peppers. What are you, some kind of idiot?!" ...Wtf? This isn't happening.
Me: "Ma'am, the pizzas were in warming bags for less than seven minutes when they arrived at your doorstep. Two of my coworkers and I personally verified that the toppings on your pizzas were correct. I'm really not sure how the pizzas could have gotten cold or how the peppers could have disappeared."
SC: "Are you calling me a liar?" No, dear, I'm calling you an idiot. "I want fresh pizzas."
Me: "Well, ma'am, we're awfully busy right now. If--"
SC: "Fine. I'll bring them in. You'll have to replace them." *click*
Okay, fine, whatever. I go about my work. My boss (the owner, who happens to be crazier than most of the crazy customers) wants to know what's going on. I fill him in on everything, and he's cool with it. Things are peachy.
Then Sucktastic Customer comes in and starts screaming at me. She calls me every rude name in the book as she practically flings a pizza box across the counter at me. With my mad crazy waitress reflexes, I manage to catch it before it hits the floor. As per SOP, I open it up. There's two slices of pizza staring up at me, both liberally covered with green peppers. My crazy boss, my coworkers, and I all just stare at this woman for a second as she continues her rant. Finally, my boss speaks up.
Boss: "Lady. There's only two slices of pizza in here. And they've got a sh*tload of green peppers on 'em. You ate the rest of the damn pizza, waited two hours, then dragged your ass in here to bother me. The hell is the problem?" (Boss's native language is Expletive, and he's got quite a temper.)
SC: "That stupid little b*tch took my order wrong! And she was rude! And she called me names!" I dutifully grab the carbon copy of the order slip and hand it to my boss. He looks it over, then eyeballs Sucktastic Customer.
Boss: "This is exactly what you ordered." He turns to CW. "Did you hear DB say anything even remotely outta line to this woman?" CW, of course, says no. He looks back at SC. "What'd DB call you?"
SC: "...she called me a...a doody-head?" It's all I can do not to bust out laughing right then and there. Boss just stares at her for a couple seconds more.
Boss: "Get the hell outta my store, you dumb cow. Don't call us again. We're not cookin' sh*t for you. Now scram and quit infecting my space with your f**kin' stupid."
SC went scurrying out the door. In that moment, Crazy Boss was my hero...although there were a great many later moments where his behavior was, shall we say, less than stellar. Still, an amusing memory.
Y'all got any pizza-shop stories you wanna share? I got popcorn!
Comment