Internet Testicles

June 25, 2009 at 9:45 PM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | Leave a comment
  It’s a classic syndrome:  some skinny, pale, pathetic geek (or some fat, pale, soft and weak putz) gets on the internet onto an online forum or anywhere that they can leave a comment, and instantly they become a cross between Dane Cook and Rambo–tough as Dane Cook, funny as Rambo.
  Little pussies and punks get on the internet in their mommies’ homes, and, cowering behind the anonymity of the internet, pose as hard asses and are just rude to everyone.  They think they are tough.  Everyone else thinks they are assholes.
  And by the way–no, I don’t lump myself in with those turds.  First of all, I’m an adult, more or less.  Second and most important is that I am the same asshole in person as I am on the web.  Big difference.

  At Domino’s Pizza, you can place your order online.  I haven’t decided if I like this yet or not, but so far the weighting has not been in its favor.  Maybe it is better to not have to go through all the trouble to actually talk to the customer in person, but then I lose out on the opportunity to humiliate and degrade them.  It’s kind of a trade-off.
  There are lots of neat and annoying little things you get as a benefit of ordering online.  If you have no life, you can track the progress of your order, from makeline to oven, to delivery.  And then you can rate the food, the delivery, the service, and comment on all of it.  Isn’t that swell?
  You see where the problem is, right? 
  Whatever they comment shows up on our screens.  It will announce the first time with an audio of "Ta-dah!" more or less, and then scroll across the bottom.  Periodically it will repeat, and eventually we have to get on the computer and respond/verify that yes, in fact, we did see the annoying scrolling message on our computers.  "You have customer feedback!  Respond Immediately!"   
  And I have gone to the computer and followed up on the feedback.  Of course, whatever I type in does not go back to the customer–it’s not some IM chat thing going on.  So if that is the case, why, then, do I have to "Respond Immediately"?  Whatever I type in there goes to the office, wherein I explain how I handled whatever it is I had to handle.  Why must I do this right away?  I don’t really know.  If they have a serious problem, they need to get in touch with that piece of 19th century technology called the goddamn telephone and give me a fucking ring.  During the two hours of night I actually work called Dinner Rush, I don’t have the time and definitely don’t have the fucking inclination to drop everything I’m fucking doing and walk my ass back to the office and get online and CHAT with some dickcheese who thinks the most important thing in my life is that he specifically asked for 8 napkins and only received 7.
  If that’s your goddamn problem, you better call me up in person so you can get some personalized, individual service, like me personally slamming the phone down in your ear when I hang up on you. you retarded shithead.
  Having said that, I do enjoy to look up at the screen when a new comment comes up.  It’s just natural curiousity.
  A couple of young Einsteins order a pizza and a sammich online for pickup.  That’s their first mistake, because they don’t realize they are going to have to come in and deal with me face to face, which is a scary prospect even under normal circumstances.  The next mistake they make–a big one–is to rate the order, the service and the pizza, and comment on it.  Before they even get it.  In fact, I’m making it when I get the comment flash across the screen, but I don’t connect it to the order right away because it’s not noted at that point.  But the comment went something like this:  "It was horrible!  I want a refund!  You should walk the plank!"  or some other equally absurd pirate reference.
  And then they rated the food 1 (which is the lowest).  Well, see, kids, that’s not cool.  For reasons I can only suspect (such as, even though it’s not scientific, it is easy), the home office uses this as a metric of our performance, so that "1" carries some weight with it no matter how illegitimate it may be.
  I had a few moments because we weren’t that busy, so I went back to the office to check.  That’s when I discovered it was a pickup order that by that time had just come out of the oven.  They were going to come in.  Muwah-haha.  Excellent.
  Presently, the perps enter.  Two young punks, probably about fifteen years old.  I suspected, but asked politely, "Hi, have you already ordered?"
  "And what’s the name on that?"
  As soon as they told me my demeanor immediately changed.  I said to them, "So YOU’RE the punks who gave the order a bad rating before you even got it."
  They were a bit shocked, so I poured it on.  I brought the food over to the counter and slammed it down.  I said, "Those ratings count as points against us!  That affects my job!"  The two started apologizing right away.  They didn’t mean, it, they’re sorry.  They were just having fun, they didn’t know–the usual crap.  Over-privileged spoiled punks who have yet to be called on the carpet–
  I continued to act pissed.  I told him the total and snatched the money quickly from his hand, then slammed the change on the counter.  For once, I get to do it!  Finally I had enough of their nervous, embarrassed fumbling and apologies, and I said, "All right, fine, It’ll be okay.  It’s fine–"  Just get the fuck out already, wouldja?
  They left, and I laughed my ass off.
  Now, it is true that the scores count against me, or at least against the store.  But I included documentation about this incident.  Will I get in trouble?  Don’t know, and I care even less.  It was fucking funny.


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