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grrgoylTery wanted to go out last night, leaving me to fend for myself for dinner. I was craving delivery pizza again but could remember lately being profoundly disappointed with the Big Guys' product, Domino's, Pizza Hut. Both of them taste increasingly like cardboard to me. I rooted around for coupons and came across a flyer for Papa Nick's, a local and previously untested joint.
I called them up and a man with a very thick accent, I'm assuming Greek, answered. The first thing I wanted to ascertain was if I was within the free delivery range (most places only leave flyers on doors that are); I was not, but my hunger didn't care too much and kept poking at me insistently. I conveyed my address with some difficulty (difficult for him to understand, not for me to say) and he promised me delivery in about 45 minutes.
That was at 7:30.
At 9:00 I was so hungry I could've eaten my remote, and still no sign of them. I called them back, playing up my irritation (not that I had that far to go, really) in hopes of getting a discount or even a freebie. His excuse to me was that the delivery guy was "probably lost or something." You think? I don't know how long it takes to make a pizza, but it seems to me that when the wait starts approaching an hour and a half, shouldn't THEY make an attempt to contact me if they are lost? It would be embarrassing for them, sure, but a small price to pay to make a customer happy. And also, in the pizza delivery biz, making the food is only half the battle. The other half is the ability to locate residential addresses. I can understand the average Denver citizen not being able to easily find things, but if you're working in inventory or pizza delivery (or mail/package delivery, any kind of delivery, actually), you really, really need this skill.
They called me back again to ask what my major cross streets were. I gave them, but couldn't resist pointing out that I also gave them back when I originally placed the order. "You did?" he asked, as if I was lying. These people were really pushing the limits of my civility. "Do you want directions or something?" I helpfully offered. "No, no, we got it..." he mumbled. (Because, as Tery said, these were men and everyone knows men never need directions.) Sorry to disagree, but if you "got it" then surely I'd already be eating my pizza and we wouldn't be having this conversation.
I had already decided the delivery boy would absolutely not be receiving a tip from me. I imagined him asking for one, and coolly replying, "Yeah, I've got a tip for you. Next time don't get lost" or something equally biting.
They called back AGAIN. I almost choked when I saw them on the caller ID. "Okay, ma'am? He says he's in your area, but either he has the wrong address or something's going on, because he went there and the woman said she didn't order a pizza." My intense, aching hunger made me just irrational enough that this sounded for all the world like a thinly-veiled accusation, like on Friday nights I like to order pizzas and then lie about it when they arrive, just for a hoot. "Well, clearly it's the wrong address, because I haven't spoken to anyone" was all I said. He asked my address AGAIN and we cleared it all up. Someone somewhere in the process put me down as street number ending in 0, not 4. He promised they'd be here right away, and I asked if I would get some kind of discount for my ridiculously long wait. He said I would.
This complicated my tip decision, however. Is it fair to punish the delivery guy for a mistake that someone else might have made? I decided yes, because at this point, if I were the delivery person, I probably would not be expecting one anyway.
They called back AGAIN. This time to point out that the pizza that had been driving around for a couple of hours would probably be cold, so they were offering to make me a new one. I was thinking the same thing so agreed, but by now I was so weakened with starvation that I added, "Please hurry! I am very, very hungry." He chuckled, "Okay. About 45 minutes. And we'll discount it."
10:00 (so much for my antireflux measures). Doorbell rings. I open the door to find the saddest-looking, scaredest-looking Greek man I've ever seen positively cowering there. He barely speaks English and is shaking as he hands me the receipt to sign. GODDAMMIT!!!!!! WHY couldn't it be some young punk????? Who sends their FATHER out to deliver pizza?????? Call me heartless, but I still didn't tip (and the slip I signed still had the original price on it). I mean, 2-1/2 hours for a pizza. What would Miss Manners do?
The punchline? The pizza....was good. Really good. And not just because I would have eaten dryer lint at that point. So I will probably be ordering from them again, now that everything's all straightened out. And hopefully that poor man will deliver again and I'll give him a really big tip (because underneath it all, I am still too damn soft for my own good).
The lessons today are: Never wait until you're hungry to order delivery. And never, ever attempt to order delivery when you are Queen Saga like me.
I called them up and a man with a very thick accent, I'm assuming Greek, answered. The first thing I wanted to ascertain was if I was within the free delivery range (most places only leave flyers on doors that are); I was not, but my hunger didn't care too much and kept poking at me insistently. I conveyed my address with some difficulty (difficult for him to understand, not for me to say) and he promised me delivery in about 45 minutes.
That was at 7:30.
At 9:00 I was so hungry I could've eaten my remote, and still no sign of them. I called them back, playing up my irritation (not that I had that far to go, really) in hopes of getting a discount or even a freebie. His excuse to me was that the delivery guy was "probably lost or something." You think? I don't know how long it takes to make a pizza, but it seems to me that when the wait starts approaching an hour and a half, shouldn't THEY make an attempt to contact me if they are lost? It would be embarrassing for them, sure, but a small price to pay to make a customer happy. And also, in the pizza delivery biz, making the food is only half the battle. The other half is the ability to locate residential addresses. I can understand the average Denver citizen not being able to easily find things, but if you're working in inventory or pizza delivery (or mail/package delivery, any kind of delivery, actually), you really, really need this skill.
They called me back again to ask what my major cross streets were. I gave them, but couldn't resist pointing out that I also gave them back when I originally placed the order. "You did?" he asked, as if I was lying. These people were really pushing the limits of my civility. "Do you want directions or something?" I helpfully offered. "No, no, we got it..." he mumbled. (Because, as Tery said, these were men and everyone knows men never need directions.) Sorry to disagree, but if you "got it" then surely I'd already be eating my pizza and we wouldn't be having this conversation.
I had already decided the delivery boy would absolutely not be receiving a tip from me. I imagined him asking for one, and coolly replying, "Yeah, I've got a tip for you. Next time don't get lost" or something equally biting.
They called back AGAIN. I almost choked when I saw them on the caller ID. "Okay, ma'am? He says he's in your area, but either he has the wrong address or something's going on, because he went there and the woman said she didn't order a pizza." My intense, aching hunger made me just irrational enough that this sounded for all the world like a thinly-veiled accusation, like on Friday nights I like to order pizzas and then lie about it when they arrive, just for a hoot. "Well, clearly it's the wrong address, because I haven't spoken to anyone" was all I said. He asked my address AGAIN and we cleared it all up. Someone somewhere in the process put me down as street number ending in 0, not 4. He promised they'd be here right away, and I asked if I would get some kind of discount for my ridiculously long wait. He said I would.
This complicated my tip decision, however. Is it fair to punish the delivery guy for a mistake that someone else might have made? I decided yes, because at this point, if I were the delivery person, I probably would not be expecting one anyway.
They called back AGAIN. This time to point out that the pizza that had been driving around for a couple of hours would probably be cold, so they were offering to make me a new one. I was thinking the same thing so agreed, but by now I was so weakened with starvation that I added, "Please hurry! I am very, very hungry." He chuckled, "Okay. About 45 minutes. And we'll discount it."
10:00 (so much for my antireflux measures). Doorbell rings. I open the door to find the saddest-looking, scaredest-looking Greek man I've ever seen positively cowering there. He barely speaks English and is shaking as he hands me the receipt to sign. GODDAMMIT!!!!!! WHY couldn't it be some young punk????? Who sends their FATHER out to deliver pizza?????? Call me heartless, but I still didn't tip (and the slip I signed still had the original price on it). I mean, 2-1/2 hours for a pizza. What would Miss Manners do?
The punchline? The pizza....was good. Really good. And not just because I would have eaten dryer lint at that point. So I will probably be ordering from them again, now that everything's all straightened out. And hopefully that poor man will deliver again and I'll give him a really big tip (because underneath it all, I am still too damn soft for my own good).
The lessons today are: Never wait until you're hungry to order delivery. And never, ever attempt to order delivery when you are Queen Saga like me.
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no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 05:04 pm (UTC)Either way, they sure as hell know your address now!
no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 05:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 06:59 pm (UTC)(frozen) no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 05:54 pm (UTC)(frozen) no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 06:23 pm (UTC)(frozen) no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 06:28 pm (UTC)Yes that was random. Oh and I'll write it in my lj when I get to that point in updating about my trip to see Jess but I SO got addicted to going in Hot Topic and kept blaming you. ;-)
(frozen) no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 08:00 pm (UTC)