The 18″ X-Large pizza that Whitey made for a delivery was just a bit too big for it’s box.
We had to put it in one of our 24″ Giant boxes instead. Bummer. Those boxes cost almost $2 a piece. Oh well.
He took the delivery to our favorite hotel (read: sarcasm), and came back with yet another “delivery hell” story.
Standing outside the door in a hallway littered with party remenants and black balloons (which read OVER THE HILL), he listened to the party inside the hotel room. He knocked a few times, but it was so loud that no one could hear him. Instead, they yelled loudly to each other about pitching in for the pizza. One guy was complaining about having to fork over eleven-bucks for the beer at Safeway earlier, and said that he wasn’t going to help pay for the pie.
A drunk man appeared in the hallway, stumbling towards the party room with four (yes, four) Keystone Light cans of beer in his hands. They were all open, and he sipped off of each of them before entering the hotel room.
Whitey stood in front of the now opened door, and waited as the group counted the one-dollar bills that they had gathered from everyone. As he waited, he explained that the pizza had been tossed too large, and that’s why it was in our Giant box instead of an 18″ box.
Sure, sure, they said as they shut the door.
As Whitey was telling us this story, the phone rang. One of the front gals went to answer it, and began making strange faces towards me as if there were a problem. I waved at her to come into the kitchen with the phone.
Sure enough, it was the OVER THE HILL party calling to complain that their pizza was too small.
I took over the phone and listened as an obviously wasted lady continued to say that she had paid for a Giant pizza and got a small one and this isn’t enough to feed all of us and you need to bring me (burp) another pizza to make up for it ’cause we’re hungry and paid for the big one.
I slowly explained that no, she had ordered and paid for an XLarge pizza, not a Giant, but that we had put it in the Giant box because it was too big. If anything, she received MORE pizza than she paid for.
She couldn’t grasp this, and repeated herself again.
“I’ll be happy to add you to our delivery schedule for another pizza,” I said, “but you’ll have to pay for another pizza.”
She began repeating herself again.
I began to lose my patience and so I interrupted, “Listen. I’m really, really busy. It’s Superbowl Sunday and I’m trying to make pizzas. I’m going to hand you over to my husband to finish your delivery order.”
I began making another pie and listened to Whitey say Hello? Hello. Hello? Is anyone there? over and over again. Finally, the gal must have responded because he finished the conversation with Okay. So you don’t want another pizza? Alright. Well, you have a great night. Okay. Buh-bye.
Everyone got a great laugh out of it… until the phone rang again. Whitey still had it in his hand, so he answered. Sure enough….
the dude on the other end was PISSED that his wife had been hung up on. Whitey explained that she said she didn’t want another pizza, and they had both said goodbye before he hung up. Drunk dude wasn’t believing it. He ranted to Whitey that they’ll never get our business again, and that he wanted his money back because he couldn’t understand how they had paid for a Giant pizza and received a small one.
Whitey calmly said, in a really loud voice: Well maybe it would make sense if you ate more pizza and drank less beer.
And then he hung up.
🙂 I think I’ll make that into a bumper sticker.