pizza shop stories

Everyone has a story.

But some of those stories are quite stupid.

Let me set the scene…

Jim and I decided to try a different pizza place this evening for dinner.  He called the order in and I went to get it – arriving 1 minute, 30 seconds ahead of the estimated completion time.  

That time isn’t really relevant – other than to note that, as usual, I have my shit together.

The woman that walks in just ahead of me holds the door open for me – which is nice.  We’ll call her Woman One.   The two of us wait in the very small lobby for a moment while the clerk takes a lengthy to-go order on the phone.  While we stand there, another woman walks in – we’ll call her Woman Two and she’s talking on her phone.

But not just talking on her phone.  She’s got the phone on speaker and she’s holding it up to her face horizontally – like she’s having a conversation with a saucer about what happened to her tea cup. 

(For clarity, people that do this are MONSTERS and deserve whatever horrible fate that befalls them.)

This conversation, though, is about a business deal that a family member wants her to get involved in.  More on that in a moment…

The clerk is still working on the phone order and before she gets done, Woman One leaves the lobby and goes outside.  No pizza, no jo-jos, no cheese-sticks.  She just leaves.  When I later go to the parking lot I’ll discover that she has left completely.  For now, though, my place in line has bumped up.  

Woman Two has continued her conversation.  The amount the family member needs is $20,000 and of course she could get that – obviously – but isn’t sure she should.  The person on the other end of the conversation isn’t sure she should do that either.

The clerk finishes and I give her the name for the order.  She disappears into the back for approximately 9,000 years. 

Woman Two now relates that she was instructed to go to the bank to get help with the paperwork and that she has $20,000 in equity in her home.  

Which, gentle reader, one should note is not the same as having $20,000 readily available. 

Now the conversation goes back to the merits of the business venture and if she is willing to put her house on the line for it.  The consensus between Woman Two, her caller, (and mysel)f is generally “no”, but still open for debate. 

The clerk comes back with my order and while I’m navigating the payment screen someone asks Woman Two what order she’s there for.  She dramatically sighs at having her conversation interrupted, then pauses the conversation long enough to give them two orders – the second of which she’s uncertain of the pronunciation. 

No sooner has she uttered the names, she too leaves the restaurant. 

The other clerk tries to get confirmation on the names, but she’s gone.  I finish paying, get a receipt and take a moment to wonder:

“Does no one know how this works?”

1. You walk in.
2.  Give them your name.
3.  They give you food.
4.  You pay for the food.
5.  AND THEN you leave.  

If you don’t follow that simple sequence, it doesn’t work. 

As I walk out, thankful for my food and my wits, I see Woman Two heading back towards the restaurant – carrying her DoorDash bags to pick up the orders. 

I am not a financial expert, but I think perhaps that Woman Two should consider very carefully her options before investing in a business venture with a family member.  Though, given the way she was talking on the phone, who am I to say?

Woman One, as I mentioned, was nowhere to be found. I hope she figured out her error with steps 2 through 4 and eventually came back for her order.

And the pizza?

It was okay – if maybe a little pricey.