Lend me your ears

The phone rings.

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"
"Is this the Smith residence?"

Yes. Yes, it is. Because we at the Smith residence always answer our phone like we're running a pizza joint.

*facepalm*

Who picks up the ball and throws it to What, What throws it to I Don't Know, I Don't Know throws it back to Tomorrow, triple play!

The phone rings.

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"

"Yes, what are your wings called?"

*sigh* "Wings."

"Yes, what are they called?"

"Wings."

"Yes, the wings."

"...Wings."

"Yeah. I know you have them, what do you call them?"

"Wings."

"Right. Those. What are they called?"

*facepalm*

If your next word is "tumescence," I'm out of here

One of the waitresses was writing something today -- something for a class of some kind. Since I'm the source of all human knowledge, she turned to me for spelling advice.

She asked for assistance on spelling...

• Arouse.
• Peeking.
• Ravenous.
• Insertion.
• Pulverize.
• Tremor.
• Shudder.
• Convulse.
  

I don't even want to know what she was writing about.

Let me answer that question with another question: shut up!

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"

"Yeah, I need a pizza delivered."

"Okay, what would you like?"

[Offended] "I...beg your pardon?"

"What would you like? To order?"

*click*

"...?"

Words fail

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"
"Yes, I have this coupon here that says you have boneless wings now?"
"Yes, we do."
"What's the difference between the boneless wings and your regular wings?"

*facepalm*

Multiple personalities are fun

We have a lot of customers for whom Spanish is a first language. Unfortunately, none of our employees can speak Spanish, so these phone calls are often deeply frustrating.

Once, though, a call got a little weird.

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"
[badly mangled, heavily accented, barely understandable English] "Do you have anyone who speak Spanish?"
"No, I'm sorry, we don't."
[flawless, clean, accentless English] "Okay, let me get two large pepperoni pizzas."

The hell?

Can't quite put the pieces together

It's about 10:30 p.m. on a Tuesday night. Mini Boss and I are closing up. I'm washing the dishes, he's counting the money. The OPEN sign is turned off, the dining room is dark, the doors are locked.

A man tries to open the door. Failing that, he frantically knocks on the window. It takes a minute before we notice him, and then another moment before we decipher his question as he yells it to us:

"Are you open?"

*facepalm*

An existential quandry

The kid was about six, I'd say. As I approached the house, he dropped the ball he'd been playing with and scampered over to me. This isn't surprising -- kids always race up to me. I am carrying pizza, after all.

"Are you the pizza man?" he said.

"Yes," I told him.

He looked up at me with his huge, brown eyes and said, in a voice clear and innocent, "Why?"

I still don't have an answer.

Definition theatre

Overhead: a conversation between Mini Boss and a woman at the counter.

MINI BOSS: I need you to sign your credit card receipt, please.

WOMAN: [no response; not visibly paying attention]

MINI BOSS: I need you to sign your credit card receipt, please.

WOMAN: Hey -- I'm not illiterate. I heard you.

*facepalm*

I think he caught a cab

Big Boss told of me of an encounter he had this afternoon. A big, bulky guy wandered into the store and approached the counter. "Have you seen my friend?" the man said, and produced a picture. It was an image of...Jesus.

"I dropped him off here," he said, "I was supposed to pick him up."

Big Boss told him that no, Jesus hadn't been around. The man, looking sad, took his picture and left.

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'.

Looks like we have more brain cancer contestants

It was quite slow tonight, so Big Boss decided to close up early. While we were doing so, the phone rang a few times. I had the same conversation each time.

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, I'm sorry, we're closed."
"Yeah, I need to place an order for delivery."
*sigh* "We're closed."
"Oh."

What did I just fucking say?

Somebody's desperate to show off their broadband connection

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"

"Do you do online orders?"

"No, I'm sorry, we don't."

"Oh. Okay. Well, never mind, then."

"Uh -- you can place an order over the phone."

"No, that's all right. Thanks anyway." *click*

At least he was willing to admit it

Remember what I said before, about questions you can't answer without sounding like a smart ass?

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"
"Yeah, do you have any specials?"
"We have two large two-topping pizzas for $18.99."
"Two-topping?"
"Yes, sir."
"...Um. Huh. Okay. Well...okay. I know you're gonna think I'm an idiot, that this is a stupid question. But...what is a two-topping pizza?"
"A...pizza with two toppings?"

Clerks: a documentary, part 2

If you've seen Clerks, you'll remember one of its running gags. At the beginning of the film, Dante arrives at the store to find that a vandal has jammed gum in the locks of the steel shutters over the windows. Since it gives the impression that the store isn't open, Dante grabs a white sheet and some shoe polish and constructs a sign that reads, in three-foot-high letters, "YES! I ASSURE YOU WE ARE OPEN!" Despite this, every customer who wanders into the store asks him, "Are you open?"

At Pizza Place, we were closed yesterday for Thanksgiving. We're generally closed on those big holidays -- Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas. But a few years ago, Big Boss decided to stay open for Christmas.

We were just about the only business open that day, so we did some brisk business. But the pleasant amount of money I made wasn't quite worth the annoying phone calls I had to answer all day.

Every phone call -- every pickup order, every delivery order, every last bloody phone call -- began as follows:

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, how can I help you?"
"Are you open?"

No. No, I'm just here hanging out, thought I'd answer the telephone. Why else would someone be answering the phone?

Next year, ask Santa for some common sense.

I realize there's a perfectly valid explanation for this one, but it's funnier if the guy is just an idiot

Last night at Pizza Place, the phone rings.

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"
"Yeah, what's your phone number?"
"....?"

WTF?

"Okay...your total is going to be $20.46. Are you going to be paying with cash or credit?"

"Credit."

"Okay. Can I get the credit card number, please?"

"Uh, sure. Do you need all the numbers? Or just some of them?"

"..."

Leave it out for a few days, and you can shingle your roof with it

There's something strangely compelling in someone who isn't quite paying attention to what they're saying. When people are confused, or flustered, or just really stupid, some bizarre questions and statements will emerge. Like this:

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, how can I help you?"
"Do you guys have cheesesticks? Or cheesebread?"
"We have cheesebread."
"Is it -- hmm. Is it like the, the thin one? That you can eat?"

No, we don't have that cheesebread you can eat. Roof-shingling cheesebread, sure. But edible cheesebread? 'Fraid not.

Just leave it there, we'll get it in a few weeks

A man calls us and places a large order, which he wants delivered. He gives an address in one of the developing neighborhoods on the edges of town. When the order is ready, I jump in my car and head out.

When I arrive at his address, I find that no one is home. Because the house isn't finished yet. The driveway is a hole in the ground, the place has no walls, and I can see the street behind it through the house's empty frame.

I double-check to make sure I'm at the right address, which I am. I look around: none of the other houses on this block are finished, either. Hmm.

I return to the Pizza Place, and my manager gives the guy a call.

"Oh!" he says. "That's the house we're moving to in a few weeks."

My manager: "You gave us the address of a house you don't even live in yet?"

"Yeah," he says, chuckling. "Guess I'm an idiot."

You don't say.