Story time! This time I'll tell you a story of something that happened to me just yesterday. Rest assured, this story is laden with profanity for your amusement. Or warning, I guess, if you find that kind of thing offensive.
I'm a delivery driver for a sandwich shop. I'm going to tell you about the worst delivery I've ever taken. Now, the BEST delivery I've ever taken involved a small, easy catering order, a wedding planner, some bridesmaids, a really good tip and some accidental nudity. This one is strangely similar.
So I take the call and right away it's a nightmare. The guy is speaking in a slur, which is bad. It's lunch rush so there's a cacophony of noise behind me, which made it worse. Either his receiver was really bad or he was mumbling with the phone WAY too close/inside his mouth. So it's loud around me, he's not enunciating, he's being very quiet and won't speak up even when I ask him to, and everything he's saying is distorted.
I plug my other ear, listen as closely as I can and take his order. At first he doesn't want to give me his exact address, he wants to just teach me how to get to his house from the shop. Over the phone. I got the address out of him after a speech about how hard his apartment is to find (which it isn't. Like, in an obvious way. Whatever).
The guy orders his sandwich, and it's not that bad... at least, not immediately. Bread/Size? Easy. Meat? Easy. Cheese? Sure. Toppings? FUCKING NIGHTMARE. The guy has very EXACTING specifications on each of his fifteen toppings. I have NEVER heard someone be so picky about toppings on a sandwich, especially when you're getting almost every topping we offer. Very LIGHT pickles, Hardly ANY lettuce, but EXTRA EXTRA Tomatos, but VERY VERY LIGHT Banana Peppers, regular olives, etc etc etc. For every item on the menu.
Then he tries to ask his girlfriend what she wants, but can't articulate it. He tells me five different sandwiches on two different sizes and three different cheeses. Then he gets frustrated and starts just saying 'mayo' over and over. Then he PUTS ME ON HOLD. Okay, FUCK YOU dude, I have a job to do. You're not the only guy ordering food here, and time is money for me.
Girlfriend takes the phone and gives me her order. She was lovely, a breath of fresh air. She spoke clearly, knew exactly what she wanted, and it was over in 20 seconds. Boyfriend gets back on the phone, and asks me to make some changes to his first sandwich. We do the toppings dance for a minute or so longer.
Then he wants us to bring him a whole portion of chicken noodle soup (big enough to serve 2), but he wants us to go through the soup and pull out all of the noodles, then throw in extra cubes of chicken and carrots so it's not 'too brothy'.
I drew the line there. No. Sorry. In the time it's taken you to place your order I could have already had your food at your door and that is NOT an exaggeration. I tell him, "Sorry sir, we can't actually DO that. It's a time issue, barring the fact that our soup is pre-made as is."
He laughs. "Yeah, you probably think I'm crazy now, huh?" I'm a smooth motherfucker though so I say, "Not at all, just... particular. Tell you what, I'll throw in an extra fork so you can pick out the noodles onto your napkin, and I'll try to catch more meat in the ladle when I dish it up." He thanks me profusely, declares that he's paying in cash, and I finally get to hang up the phone.
Fast forward to his door. Girlfriend answers and invites me in. She's talking to some dude, whatever, and we're waiting for her boyfriend to come out from the back with the money. She yells at him but won't go back there. Huh. Then I see a funny little guy come from the back room, stuffing a plastic baggie in his pocket. He and his friend leave right away, with his treasure procured. The hell?! Did I just witness a drug deal?!
Boyfriend walks out of the back room to thank me and pay me. He was polite enough except for one tiny,tiny detail. MOTHERFUCKER WAS NAKED. Boxer shorts only, and they were pretty well worn. I could deal with the asscrack, but I did NOT want to see his hairy balls.
The $3 tip I got from that order just...doesn't seem to cover it, you know? I mean it doesn't BOTHER me on a moral level, but whenever I see balls in my day-to-day I just never consider it to be a good thing. I'm never like, "Oh hey, look at those balls! That's nice!" or "I'm having a good day! Some guy just flashed me his nuts!." I just don't appreciate the dingleberries like that, I guess. It's my own vice, really, but golly if it didn't just pale my skin and kind of make me wish I didn't work around food.
So there you have it. Most OCD order ever, with the rudest phone etiquette ever, punctuated by an elegant set of testicles. Hope this story brought you joy, to offset the general resentment toward the world that I managed to get.