May 17, 2008 at 4:32 PM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | Leave a comment
  The steak restaurant I work at delivers, and we have a larger area than any other delivery place I have ever worked at.  Contained within our delivery area is three or four Domino’s.  At least two Papa John’s–maybe three.  We go further than anyone.
  So I really love it–and it hasn’t happened in a while–when I get to tell someone that they are too far and we just don’t go there.  This is a powerful, important woman.  Obviously a sales rep, and a high-pressure one at that.  No one tells her "No."
  "I’ve driven from here to where you are and it really doesn’t take that long."  Her tone said much more than her words.  Obviously, we could deliver to her and I was mistaken.  Condescending cunt. 
  My turn.
  "Ma’am, what do you do for a living?"
  "Excuse me?  How is that relevant?"
  "Well, I’ve been doing my job for so long that now I feel fully qualified to tell you how to do your job.  Isn’t that what you want to do?  You want to tell me how to do my job.  Obviously you know everything."
  "Just forget it–"
  "No, please."  But she had hung up.  A valued customer.  It’s fun to pop bubbles.

  The other night, someone called from very, very far away….And yet–in theory, anyway–we deliver there.  Gas prices are high, and moral in the store is low.  Megan is taking the call, and she puts them on hold.  "I don’t really want to drive out that far."
  I have a solution.  "Tell them this:  ‘We are short on drivers and have to restrict our delivery area this evening.  Therefore, we can’t go out there.  Sorry.’"
  A lie, I know.  Bad business–yeah, yeah.  But we shouldn’t be going out that far anyway.  Honestly–if I pointed to it on a map you would say, "You gotta be fuckin kiddin me!"
  Megan hems and haws.  "Uh, ma’am, we’re short on drivers tonight….so it would take a really long time for a delivery out to you…..uhm….you can pick it up if you like–"  They said they’d call back.
  I just looked at her.  "Megan, this is how date-rape happens.  ‘No’ Means NO.  What did I tell you?  Never give them an open.  They are going to try to find some way now.  Learn to keep your legs crossed.  Don’t buckle."
  "But she was really pushy–"
  On the plus side, Megan sounds like an easy lay.  But I felt like I was going to have to deal with them when they called back.  They *always* call back.
  Ten minutes later.  I recognize the number on the caller ID, but act like I don’t.  It’s a man this time–so we have both resorted to escalation.  When he gives me his address, that’s when I lay the line on him.  "I’m sorry, but I’m short on drivers tonight and I can’t go that far tonight."
  "Well we don’t care how long it takes, just tell us how long."  Uh, if you don’t care, then why should I have to tell you?
  I said, "No, because of our shortened staff, I have to restrict our delivery area.  We can’t go out that far tonight.  Sorry."  The difference is tone.  I  said it with an unwavering tone, a tone that said there is no negotiation.
  That’s why, between me and Megan, she is the one more likely to get raped by a date.  Hell, she’ll even apologize.  It’ll never happen to me.
  I’ll never apologize.

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