Pizza Memories from The Basement

The flavorsome Botulism Sauce here to share something that happened way back when I was in my tender youth.

At the time, I worked in a pizza place, down in the basement. It was my job to take phone orders and basically sit around and wait for things to happen.  It was an incredibly easy job, but of course it paid like hell and most of the other people that did my job were close to illiterate or heavy drug users (or one in the same) but fortunately we all didn’t work together at the same time. I worked Tuesday-Wednesday and Friday- Saturday.

As you can imagine Friday and Saturday we were slammed after about 4pm until we closed but on Tuesday and Wednesday it was slow as molasses all night. Of course I brought loads of things to do, books to read, origami paper, coloring books, you name it I probably had it in my backpack at some point. Alas, nothing, and I mean NOTHING in this world, could keep me awake on those slow evenings.  

So, I would eventually lay my head down daintily on my desk right next to the phone and doze off until the ring would jar me out of my serene slumber.  There was only one problem with this, apparently I have a sultry voice when I’m just waking up. It has been described as a phone sex operator voice before. I really must have startled some people with my “Name of the pizza place, how may I help you?” in my breathy, low tone. Whoops! It got me into a bit of trouble once when some guy kept calling back over and over to talk to me to try and get me to personally deliver his pizza (I didn’t have a license) or to at least give him my phone number (haha, no) but I told him that I was a horrible ape woman and after a while he finally cut it out.

Other than that, the time that I ordered mozzarella sticks and they put sugar on them instead of salt (Why were they salting them anyway?) and the time that I asked this guy with an area code I didn’t recognize if he was from Mars (“no no, I’m originally form New Jersey.” “Oh, where is that, Mars?”) there wasn’t much excitement there. I’m sure if I was upstairs for any part of my job I would have many other stories to tell about it, and I’m sure the waiting staff up there had their fair share, but I was lucky (and at the time weird looking enough) to be shooed into the basement.

May all your pizzas take less than a half hour to arrive,

--Botulism Sauce

   

Comments

[The Last Archimedean]

Where I live a pizza gets to your house faster than an ambulance. Sad but true.

The pizza takes 22.4 minutes to arrive [on average, the five times I've ordered it since I moved in.] The three times the manager of the complex has had to call an ambulance the average response time has been 28.7 minutes.

So if I ever feel the need to get to a hospital and can't drive myself there I'll call for a pizza and an ambulance, pay for the pizza, and eat it in the ambulance en route after it shows up five minutes later.

[NC Tony]

Wait, Mars and New Jersey are two separate places?

[Raven]

No, no. New Jersey is a moon of Uranus.

[Book Baby]

You said, "Uranus" Heh, heh. < my best "Beavis and Butthead" imitation>>

[TechTiger]

TLA: Order a pizza and offer the guy a 50$ tip to take you to the hospital. Tens of thousands of dollars cheaper than an ambulance. :P