A friend and part of his family visited us last week. We were sitting around deciding what to have for dinner. After much of the normal “What do you want? I don’t know how about you” the decision was pizza. This of course prompted the “What do you want on it? I don’t really care as long as there are no anchovies’” discussion.
Interesting, I have never known anyone who eats anchovies on or with anything, so why is it offered on pizza and how fresh can these creatures be if they are not popular? Maybe that explains why they smell and look as though they are two degrees beyond rotted.
Anyway, Ruth and I don’t normally eat fast food-type pizza so we could not provide much input as to what was near. Ah, the wonderful internet! A quick map search on my friend’s phone and they found a national chain they normally use. The decision was made to have it delivered. Now for the phone call.
We live on Fence Jumper Avenue, seriously, Fence Jumper Avenue. When my friend spoke with the person at the nearby pizza place, they naturally ask for the address so they can look it up for delivery. After about five minutes of repeating and spelling the street name and providing the nearest cross streets, the guy said that we are out of the delivery area. We had to call another store. He gave us the number. We are only four miles away so I believe that the guy just could not spell Fence Jumper so he moved us along. This has happened to us at airports during flight delays where they get us on a flight to somewhere else so we become someone else’s problem.
My very patient friend dutifully called the other store and after many minutes of the “how do you spell that” he was told that we were outside of the delivery area. He gave the number of the original store. My friend decided to order pickup at the original store. I myself would have moved on and never used that chain again, however, my friend is a patient man.
He called the original store and got the same individual. He placed the order for pickup without any problems and then it happened.
The time was 7:17 PM. We were on speakerphone. My friend said, “So it will be ready in 15 to 20 minutes, right?” “No sir.” says the guy. “It will be ready at approximately 7:32.” After the incredulous looks subsided, we laughed tearfully for the duration of the pizza preparation time.
If you don’t get why this is funny, I will help you prepare your resume and get it to the pizza place for you.
My friend refused to take me with him to pick up the pizza. Apparently he was concerned about my inability to remain civilized.
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