In the grand scheme of things
Last weekend after coming home from camping and spending the next five hours in a unending stream of necessary chores (popping the camper back up to dry out, draping our blankets and sleeping bags over the patio furniture for the same reason, taking a blissful post-camping shower, doing a quick clean of the house to keep up with the pretense that we’re not being held hostage by a thin layer of cat hair, and doing a grocery/Target run), we decided to call in for a pizza for dinner.
I dialed the number and was immediately asked if I could hold. After five minutes, I hung up. I mean, I have my expectations, you know? I call, the phone rings, someone answers in a reasonable amount of time, I order, and someone brings me pizza and wings directly to my doorstep. That’s how it works, right? Only Jason was shocked: “Why did you do that? Now we’ll be at the end of the queue!”
So I called back and was once again put on hold. After another few minutes I finally got to place my order and asked how long delivery would take: “More than an hour.”
Since my blood sugar levels were at an all-time low and I was quickly approaching Hangry Territory, I said, “OK, I’ll come pick it up.”
At this point I was starving and had been on my feet nearly all day cleaning or running errands or whatever, and basically I just wanted some damn pizza.
When I walked into the pizza place, the lone guy there greeted me with, “I tried to call you. We’re out of traditional wings. Do you want boneless instead?”
Now wings are pretty much my favorite food ever and the boneless ones tend to irritate me with their pseudo-wingness. But the guy looked harried and he had attempted to call me to alert me to the situation, so I said that would be fine and sat back to wait the required 10 minutes before they were ready.
And then, as minorly annoyed as I was (fueled mostly by my raging hunger), I felt my annoyance immediately dissipate because it was obvious that someone had called in sick and this employee was doing all he could to stay alive. The phone kept ringing, the ovens kept beep-beep-beeping, and delivery drivers kept coming in and asking questions about their next destination.
And this employee was doing his damnedest to keep up: taking orders, pulling out fresh pizzas and cutting them, sending the drivers out on their assignments. (“And don’t forget to swing by the BP location to pick up some wings!”)
An elderly gentleman then came in to pick up his pizza and after waiting barely two seconds for the employee to notice him, he snapped, “Where’s my pizza?”
The employee looked everywhere while the old guy literally tapped his foot in impatience before he realized a driver must’ve grabbed it by mistake. “I’m so sorry, sir. One of our drivers accidentally took it. I’ll make you a free one, and it’ll take just 10 minutes.”
At that, the guy turned to me, rolled his eyes, said, “You BELIEVE this?” and stormed out, slamming the door as hard as he could.
The employee shrugged his shoulders in a “Whaddya gonna do?” gesture and got back to work. The phone was still ringing, the ovens were still beeping, and drivers were still filing in and out, part of a chaotic assembly line missing some parts but still getting the job done.
When my (boneless) wings were done, the employee handed them to me and as he searched for some containers of ranch dressing, he turned to me, stricken. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. We’re out of ranch.”
“You know what?” I told him. “That’s OK. It doesn’t matter.”
Because it really didn’t.
Oh, that poor guy. I’m so glad you were understanding, and not EVERYONE was tapping their foot and yelling impatiently.
Comment by Jess — July 1, 2010 @ 3:37 pm
I don’t think too many people would have put it in to perspective like you did. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the effet of the situation on your life–because, hey, it’s your life–that we (I do for sure) sometimes forget about the other side of it.
And I don’t know how you can call youself a wing fan if you were seriously considering putting ranch dressing on them. Come on, Shauna. BLEU CHEESE!
Comment by saly — July 1, 2010 @ 3:54 pm
Saly,
I don’t put anything on my wings, but Jason wanted the ranch for his pizza.
Comment by Shauna — July 1, 2010 @ 4:02 pm
You? Are an awesome person. Truly. I’m not sure in your condition I would have been that patient and forgiving to the poor guy.
Also? Boneless wings just do not taste the same. I, too, love wings and I guess I’d rather have boneless than none, but there is a definite difference. I also agree with Saly – it’s bleu cheese all the way. You like nothing on them? Do you like them flavored (garlic/teriyaki/etc)? How do you like them heat-wise?
Great, now I’m hungry for wings. Thanks!!
One more thing – ranch on pizza?? GAG!!!
Comment by Shelly — July 1, 2010 @ 4:51 pm
Shelly,
I like my wings with just the sauce: either regular buffalo sauce, sweet BBQ, teriyaki, or spicy garlic. Heat-wise, I’m probably more a medium-strength, although I can do the Blazin’ wings at Buffalo Wild Wings (but the next step down is too hot for me for some reason).
Now I’m hungry for wings too!
Comment by Shauna — July 1, 2010 @ 4:55 pm
I’m so glad you were nice to him. I’ll bet you were the only one all night.
Last night I saw some older guy put his HEAD IN HIS HANDS because WENDY’S put cooked onions on his sandwich instead of raw. And I was like, “Really? THIS is your hill to die on? A fast-food place makes a small error on your custom $4 sandwich? And THIS is when a man in his sixties puts his face into his hands in despair at the state of the world?”
Comment by Swistle — July 1, 2010 @ 5:02 pm
I am glad you were the one he had in there waiting with him, and not that old grumpy gus.
Comment by Artemisia — July 1, 2010 @ 5:17 pm
Ok, I accept ranch on pizza. I like it on reheated pizza only. I’m protective of wings, you know.
Comment by saly — July 1, 2010 @ 6:09 pm
I love people like you. Whenever I see someone being truly nice to a perfect stranger instead of demanding and entitled, it makes me think that MAYBE the world is worth raising children in. And sadly, I have been guilty of feeling unnecessarily pissy about such situations, but I usually do simmer down if I realize there was a legitimate reason for slowness/sloppiness. But I don’t know…. you were starving. You might be a saint!
Comment by Sarah — July 1, 2010 @ 6:44 pm
I love those moments that take us out of our own world and put us into someone else’s reality. However fleeting they are I love it when I’m reminded that that are other things that I could be worrying about and more to the world than the things in my own head.
And man do I want to order pizza right now.
Comment by Emily — July 1, 2010 @ 9:17 pm
You are so nice! I always try to be patient in situations like that, too. People like that grumpy old man suck!
Comment by Shelly — July 2, 2010 @ 8:50 am
Ya know, I hate wings, but Boneless Wings? THEY ARE CHICKEN NUGGETS! QUIT THE FARCE, BONELESS WINGS!
Comment by slynnro@gmail.com — July 2, 2010 @ 9:43 am
i was confounded when i came down to VA for college and discovered that everyone dipped their pizza in ranch. WHAT THE HECK? RANCH? it’s… PIZZA! there’s no ranch on pizza! except, clearly, for huge parts of the country, there is
Comment by Alice — July 2, 2010 @ 10:14 am
AWww – that poor guy! This is such a good reminder that sometimes the best response is patience and kindness. You never know what the “rude” retailer or “slow” server is going through.
Comment by Life of a Doctor's Wife — July 2, 2010 @ 12:34 pm