I know that pizza and marijuana go hand-in-hand. Not from personal experience, but just from working at our restaurant.
We deal with stoners… I’d guess about one in fifteen people at the counter are either high or are about to light up a big ol’ spliff. Whatever.
When we first opened, every stoner was a story to be told. Now, we only tell the great stories to each other, if only for giggles.
So there’s this one guy that comes in about twice a week, always with a story to be told. Last week, he wanted to break a $100 dollar bill. It was counterfeit, and I told him that we didn’t have change. A few days later he came in and let us know that he had self-diagnosed that he was allergic to cheese and wanted a stromboli with just meat. He then complained that there wasn’t enough cheese. Then yesterday, he came in to use the restroom and announced that he thought that he was hungry, and now he wasn’t, but that he’d be back in a few minutes and would be hungry (read: I’m going to go and find a place to smoke pot and come back).
Tonight, he showed up glassy-eyed and laughing at himself while waiting at the counter. Front gal asked Whitey to take care of it, as the guy had a strange request.
“Can I borrow some toilet paper?” he asked. “I’m all out, and don’t get paid until Monday. I’ll pay you back.”
At least it’s a good story.