Commercial failure

When customers ask what kind of drinks we carry, we have two options:

1. List all eight or so varieties. This is what I do.
2. Say, "We carry Coke products and Dr Pepper." This is what Mini Boss does.

The problem with Mini Boss's approach is that, for the most part, people don't understand what "Coke products" entails.

He often complains about the customers who hear his version, and then ask for Pepsi. "How can they think that Pepsi is a Coke product?"

I don't know. Maybe because every single Pepsi commercial is about Coke? They show off the Coca-Cola logo more than Coke does.

Coupons...of the future!

We received several calls tonight regarding coupons that just dropped. They advertise our new addition to the menu: boneless chicken wings. Excitement is high, calls were coming in from new customers -- the boneless wings are a hit!

Except, of course, for the fact that we won't have the boneless wings for another week. The coupons went out a week early.

Oops.

Bank shot

I don't know what happened to it, but there used to be a bank somewhere in our area that had a very similar phone number to ours. As you might expect, we received quite a few misdialed calls. Most of these were quick: "Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?" "Oh, I'm sorry, I dialed the wrong number." End of story.

Sometimes, though...

As I've discussed, people just don't listen to you when you answer the phone. So we'd go through a few more difficult calls.

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"
"I need to speak to someone about ordering more checks."
*groan*

One day, Mini Boss had enough. When a woman called asking the status of a deposit she'd made, he played along. He managed to get her account number, her social security number, and her driver's license number. Then he told her that her account had been closed, she owed the bank over a hundred dollars in fees, and that the only person she could talk to about it was on vacation for the next several days.

I imagine the conversation she finally had with the bank was an interesting one.

Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result

Allegedly, that's the AA definition of insanity. Case in point:

A woman called today. She placed an order, gave her address, phone number, all that stuff. But when given her total, she freaked out. "What?" she said. "Why is it that much?"

We patiently explained to her the cost of each individual item. Miffed, she said, "I'm gonna hafta call you back."

Five minutes later, she did so. She proceeded to run through the same process again -- order, address, phone number. Again, we gave the total... and, again, she freaked out. "What?" she said. "Why is it that much?"

I thought about suggesting she tattoo the prices on her thigh, but I don't think that advice would be taken in the spirit in which it was given.

You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em

Overheard at Pizza Place:

DUMBEST WAITRESS: I used to bet on football. But I lost a bunch of money.

MINI BOSS: That's because you didn't know what teams to bet on.

DUMBEST WAITRESS: Yes, I did!

MINI BOSS: Then...why did you lose?

DUMBEST WAITRESS: [indecipherable moaning, unrecognizable as human speech]

Answer me these questions...uh, four

A Sunday afternoon. The phone rings.

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"
"What days do you have your buffet?"
"Mondays through Saturdays."
"So... do you have it today?"
"No, sir."
"You don't have it on Sundays?"
"No, sir."
"So... there's no buffet today?"

Gaa!

We had no server today, so Mini Boss closed the dining room. Which meant we suffered through this conversation eight times:

"Can we dine in?"
"No, the dining room is closed."
"So, we can't sit down and eat?"
"No, the dining room is closed."
"I mean... we can't just sit here and get drinks and eat?"
"No. The. Dining room. Is closed."
"So, can we sit in the dining room and eat our food?"

Gaa!

Nothing

I have nothing today -- my hands are too sore to type and my brain too empty to create words. Read this other thing I wrote instead.

Read the friggin' sign!

I took a delivery out into the sticks yesterday. According to my odometer, it was six miles away from Pizza Place -- .2 miles of that trip consisting of their driveway.

As I walked back to my car, their neighbors rushed over to me.

"Do you guys deliver out here?"

Good lord. I'm standing here, aren't I? Then:

"What pizza place are you from?"

I looked back at my car, adorned as it was with the big white Pizza Place sign. I thought about the Pizza Place logo on my shirt. And hat.

Neighbor #2, thankfully, stepped in to answer for me.

"He's from Pizza Conglomerate!"

*facepalm*

Do you sell hubcaps for a '72 Pinto hatchback?

As a pizza delivery driver, I am occasionally viewed as a authority figure. See, the inference is made that, since I spend most of my time driving around town, I know the layout pretty well. Fortunately, this inference is often correct. When people are lost, they often stop at Pizza Place and ask for directions. I am only too happy to help.

But there are some people who are beyond my assistance. In more ways than one.

Just before sunset one Sunday evening, I headed out my car with an order. As I reached for the door handle, a green pickup truck swung into the space next to me. The passenger window descended, and the woman behind the wheel waved at me frantically. "Hey! Hey!" she said.

A damsel in distress? I'm your guy. "Yes?" I said. I expected she needed directions. What else would you ask from a pizza guy?

"I just bought this truck," she said. "Um...do you know how to turn the lights on inside?"

I stared back at her. "You mean...like...your dashboard lights?"

"Yeah!"

I stared some more. "Um...no."

"Oh," she said. "It's getting dark. What do you think I should do?"

More staring. "Uh...go back...to the...dealership? Um...maybe there's an owner's manual in the glove compartment?"

She looked unhappy with my suggestions. She pondered a moment, then scoffed, rolled up her window, and peeled away.

Oy

"Okay, your total is going to be $25.79."
"All right."
"Will you be paying with cash or credit?"
"Hmm. Do you take credit cards?"

*facepalm*

It could be worse -- you could give her a box of one dozen starving, crazed weasels

I came in today to find a new sign in our window. It's advertising Pizza Place gift cards, which are nice if you're into that kinda thing.

But since it's not enough to just sell the cards, they have to try to tie it into a holiday -- in this case, Valentine's Day. "Give your special someone the gift of great taste!" the sign declares.

I'm no expert on romance, but I'm willing to bet that a Pizza Place gift card is not the right direction to go as far as Valentine's gifts go. Just sayin'.

Somehow, I don't think they're gonna be making room on the calendar

The other night, another one of our drivers took a delivery to an address infamous for not tipping. But when he arrived, he found someone other than the usual customers at the door. This new person -- a friend or relative of the house's occupants, I suppose -- actually tipped him three dollars.

That's great, huh? Except he's still talking about it.

"It's unbelievable," he said to me today -- four days later. "I just can't believe it." Yeah, that's kinda what unbelievable means.

He just won't shut up about it. Like, dude, it's three dollars. Let it go.

"It was a monumentous day!" he bleated, and that's not even a damn word. "It should be a national holiday."

Hey, if it means I get a day off, I'm all for it.