So one of my jobs as an intern is to call in and order the pizza for our youth group.
Most of you have read about Chuck❤, my partner in Americanized Italian food, in my previous entry (Disarmed). Based on his voice, I am able to deduce he smokes four packs a day and enjoys stealing candy from children in his spare time. I also have been able to evaluate he was once part of the Navy, has a tattoo reading MOM (inside a heart), and was once referred to by his fellow sea-faring lads as "Scruffy". He wears a stained wife-beater tank-top to show off his manly tattoo. He also works at the pizza place.
Except recently, I have not spoken with Chuck❤, my business buddy. Instead, I have dealt with Fred (who was nice. I like Fred. Except for the fact that HE IS NOT CHUCK❤) and another woman, whose name I always manage to miss. She puts me on hold a lot. I think this is because she can sense I prefer Chuck❤ to her clipped tones. At least he was grumpy with style. So there I will be sitting, listening to
"Oh, that's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh"
as some woman tries to pitch to me their newest deal on pizza. Again and again. So I wrote a poem about it while I waited:
Blah
Blah
Blah
(I'm on hold)
How much longer shall I wait?
Commercial after commercial....
Going crazy.
~✳★■*CrAzY*■★✳~
And then there was that one time they made me call in the check using the pizza guy's cell phone. I mean, no offense (and I'm not stereotyping pizza people, okay) but this guy's skin looked like it hadn't seen a bar of soap in months, let alone his hair. The oil rinse definitely did nothing for him.
So there I am, trying to figure out the difference between a routing umber, check number, and account number for the first time ever, and the person on the other end of the line did NOT find my apologies to be enough to redeem my stupidity and naïveté on this matter of upmost importance. Fifteen minutes later, after another apology, I return the phone to the Grease Monkey and hand him the check meekly. I swore to myself I would never again use checks as a method of payment and I would forevermore carry my own can of Lysol for future cell-phone borrowing.
Also in Disarmed, I mentioned rioting teenagers. Due to lack of pizza, Middle Evil-style mobs have broken out. Thing to be remembered in this situation: Move it or lose it. Survival is key (and rare) if an apt supply of food is not supplied. And lately, we've cut back on the pizza orders. Meaning everyone is allowed two slices and one cane of soda instead of a free buffet. You can imagine everyone is happy about this. One guy even ordered his own separate pizza and had it delivered.
This means the pizza guy (or girl) must be fast, fit, and armed with some sort of shield (pillows work). It's like that commercial for microwaveable lunch, where the entire office only has ten minutes to eat and everyone goes savage? They tackle, run, fight, jump, roll, shove, etc. Yeah, well, picture that, only with pizza and crazed teenagers ☺.
Speaking of work, I have to go finish mine. Be sure to check out Pizza Angel by Larry. Turn the volume up because this isn't the best quality and enjoy this Vegetable Wonder!
Until later....
-Queen Alyssa
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