oh, pizza hut, you shouldn’t have. really. i mean that.
In case you are a blogger, like myself, you probably realize that weekends do not really have great traffic. It’s a fact of life…people have more time to play on the internet when someone is paying them to be doing something else. Something important, like designing a building. Or keeping dangerous criminals behind bars. Or curing the H-one, N-one, which I affectionately have termed the “Honey Noney” (get it? Hunny Nunny? H1N1? Whatever. I think it’s funny and that’s all that matters here, anyway.)
So, back to traffic. Most bloggers save their really great posts for Monday or Tuesday. I do that if I have something good. I see it all the time, so I don’t really feel too bad about it. Blogging is an actual job to many people, myself included, and we gotta get our money somewhere. But today, dear readers, you are in for a real treat. No, it isn’t exactly food related, but it does, in fact, involve food.
Bad food.
I used to work at Pizza Hut. I did! It was my first “real job” and I was glad to have it. (On a side note, that’s how I met Jon. He started working there in Delivery the same week I started. Kismet, or some crap like that, I guess. Lucky for him I only had 3 current boyfriends and he had a really great butt.) Anyway, I was a waitress, and to be a gal in high school, the money was pretty good. Back then, in our town, Pizza Hut was IT. As in, the place to be. Friday nights, after home football games? You couldn’t even get in the door. We rocked that Pizza Hut and man, were times ever good. I mean, except for the part that we worked at Pizza Hut.
So, over the years, other restaurants moved into our little town. Pizza Plus did some damage. Queens did some more. Don’t even get me started on the Chinese or TWO Mexican places. Imagine, if you will, a Ghosttown Pizza Hut. A newly remodeled, cute little Hut that managed to get it’s Beer taken away because of poor management (and a slew of drugs running through the back but that’s another story) and no one to eat there.
Jon and I had our fill of The Hut during the years we were employees. It’s fine if YOU are the one making the food…not so fine if you are relying on someone earning minimum wage to make it for you. Just saying. Think before you complain, people, your food is in the hands of underpaid teenagers who still hate authority and they just want to play the jukebox with your Children’s Network quarter donations when you finally leave. How I forget this I do not know…and one Tuesday Night, in a lapse of good judgment, I phoned in an order.
Tuesdays are called 2 Fer Tuesdays. Back in the day, it used to mean Buy One, Get One FREE. Not anymore. It’s Buy a Large at an insane price, get a medium with one crappy topping for free. But hell, I was already on the phone with the girl, so I went with it. My order?
- One Large PAN Meat Lovers
- Free Medium Pan Extra Cheese
Total? I don’t know. A lot.
So I picked up the food when they told me to and carried it back to my folks place.
In the boxes? A Thin Meat Lovers with very little meat, and a burned up THIN Sort of Cheese Pizza that Seven carried around with his greasy little fingers smacking on furniture because he couldn’t bite through it. Nor could I, mind you, but I spared the sofa.
So I call the next day, after I had cooled off a bit.
“Um, I can’t refund you any money…your bad pizza was your Free One”
Hmmm. Oookkkaay, then.
That manager didn’t know I had a big mouth blog. That manager also didn’t know I knew how to contact the Pizza Hut Headquarters. Oh,I did. I went there. Over a pizza.
So, 6 weeks later I get a letter in the mail. This letter. From the District Manager, who, by the way, was the same District Manager in 1992. I bet he’s still fat and lazy.
As you can see, no Pizza Hut letterhead, just a piece of white paper. And Handwritten even. Thanks so much for taking the time out of your busy day to WRITE me a letter, Mr. Manager. Wow.
In case you have a hard time reading the picture, let me type it up for you, grammar and all, misspellings and all, as well as my play-by-play…
Mrs. Tough, (really, that’s what is says. Mrs. Tough. Guess he was thinking about my pizza.)
I apoligize for the problen with the pizza hut in Pearisburg. I have spoke with the crew in Peaisbug & they understand where they went wrong. I agion apoligez and I hope not to loose you (loose me? really?) as the valuble coustoner you am.
Thank you, H W.
And that’s it. He kindly supplied me with a coupon for a free Medium One Topping pizza, which I have yet to redeem. Lucky for me (yay!) it’s only good in THIS Pizza Hut District. I may opt to just eat the coupon with a little bit of grease on it. I know I can bite though THAT. And it won’t be laced with the Hunny Nunny, either. I think.
Thanks, Pizza Hut. Really.
You just gave me something to post on a weekend.
