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*

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!

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*

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?"

...?

The phone rings.

"Thank you for calling Pizza Place, can I help you?"
"Yes, do you have Chinese food?"
"Um, this is Pizza Place."
"Yes. Do you have Chinese food?"
"...No."
"Really? Dammit." *hangs up*

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?"
"....?"

Clerks: a documentary

We're selling commemorative Coca-Cola glasses this Christmas, as part of that time-honored tradition of Coke slapping its logo on anything that will hold still long enough to get stamped.

The day we put up the display, a guy came in and inquired about the glasses. He thrust a bony finger at the sign and said, "How much are they?"

Wait, word problems? What is this, the SAT?

When dealing with the customers, you attempt to be polite and civil. No matter how stupid they become -- and as you've seen, and will see in the future, they can get pretty stupid -- you must remain nice and smiling. After all, the customers are your real boss; they pay your wage, if only indirectly.

But here's a sad fact: there are some questions that are impossible to answer without sounding like a smartass.

"I saw an ad in the newspaper, for your Bacon Cheddar Ham pizza?"
"Yes, sir."
"What comes on that?"
"On the Bacon Cheddar Ham?"
"Yeah."
"...Bacon...cheddar...and...ham?"

A woman called and asked about our buffet last night. The call came in at 7:41 p.m.

"What times does your buffet end?"
"8:00."
"Oh. So -- hmm. Can we still make it there?"
"...I'm sorry?"
"Well -- okay, listen. We live two minutes away. Can we make it there on time?"
"Um...if you're two minutes away... and you've got nineteen minutes..." I trailed off, because I couldn't think of a way to finish the sentence without sounding like a smartass. Unfortunately, she couldn't come with me on the leap of logic.
"Yeah, I guess we can't. Okay, thank you!" *hangs up*
"...?!"

And then there's this special guy, also from last night.

"I want to get your meat lover's pizza, but I only want beef."
"Only beef?"
"Yeah, I'm allergic to pork."
"So, no pepperoni, no sausage, no Italian sausage, no Canadian bacon, and no bacon."
"Right. A meat lover's with just beef. What do you call that?"
"...A pizza with beef."

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.