Not Guilty

June 23, 2009 at 1:43 AM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | Leave a comment
  Friday and Saturday night Domino’s closes at 2:00AM.
  Saturday night at 1:58 AM, I get a call.
  Domino’s Pizza, like any corporate entity, has a lot of procedures in place to protect it from its most valuable asset, ie, employees.  Many systems are in place in the computer to watch people, to make sure no one is cheating the system.  One of those is caller ID, and the caller ID log.
  If someone calls, the time and name and number are recorded.  This should match up with orders.  If there is no order, there better be a reason, like calling about specials, or wrong delivery area.  So if someone calls really close to closing time, if there is no order, the company is going to want to know why.  They can check up with the caller later to verify what happened.
  So I can’t just lie to a customer–as much as I’d like to–and tell them we are closed, because the company can call them later and find out what "the truth."  This is why, when all else fails, I go with honesty, because it’s going to be funnier that way.  Back to the phone call.
  It’s 1:58 AM, and I get a phone call.  After cursing briefly, I answer it.
  "Domino’s Pizza."
  "Hi.  Listen, I’m really sorry to be calling so late but I wondering if I could still order a pizza."
  "We are still open.  We close in two minutes."
  "Oh, really?  I’m so sorry.  Can I still order?  You’re not going to be mad, are you?  Are you going to spit in my pizza?"
  Of course I would never do that, but I pause just long enough to cast doubt before I answer.  "…I would *never* do that."
  "Oh, you’re a liar!  I can tell, you’re going to spit in my pizza."  She pauses, then tries another tack.  "Please!  What If I give you a big tip?"  Oh, *that* lie again.
  "I don’t get the tip, the driver does."
  "Well, what if I tell him to make sure he gives it to you?"
  I wasn’t answering her question, exactly, I was just speaking to the nature of this moment in my life, when I said, "It…just…doesn’t matter."
  "What do you mean ‘it doesn’t matter’?  What if I make him?  Come on, it’s not a big hassle, is it?"
  I said, "I have everything cleaned up and put away, and we are ready to walk out the door.  If you order, I have to stay at least another half hour."  I let that sink in, then I continue.  "But–it’s entirely up to you."
  She answers, "That’s rotten, dude.  I can’t believe your going to make me feel guilty about ordering."
  "I’m just telling it like it is."
  "…Just never mind then."
  "Have a good–"  Click.  She hung up.  Another satisfied customer, I mused.
 
  About four minutes later, she calls back, and we are legitimately closed.  That’s not the lie I told, this is:  "Domino’s-Pizza-I’m-sorry-we’re-closed."
  She called me on it.  "Oh, yeah, I’m sure you are so sorry."  I could tell more now than before that she was drunk.  "Well, motherfucker, I don’t have anything to eat and I don’t have any way of getting anywhere, bastard-d.  So, I jus hope you’re fuckin happy, asshole."  Click.
  As a matter of fact, I am happy.  How did she know?  It is funny though, the fact that she tried to play the guilt card on *me*.  Guilt only works on people with a conscious.  In this business, I have none.
  Afterwards I thought that maybe I should have made her a pizza and taken it to her myself.  She’s drunk, she’s alone, she’s vulnerable.  People can be made to do certain things for a price, and pizza is an excellent tool for barter…
  …But I have to be careful about how I use this power I possess.  With great pizza comes great responsibility.
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