Take the Money and Run


I ordered Domino’s pizza the other night. Before I continue, I’ll let you get it out of your system (”Blasphemy!” “Of all the pizza delivery at your disposal, that’s what you went with?” “Heinous, flavorless, cardboard, vomit pie!”). Feel better? Let me continue.

The price of my order was $22 (which included cheesy bread and cinnamon stix, both of which are delightful). I handed the driver a $20 and a $10 and said “Can I have three dollars back?” He smiled and waved his hand. Then he started walking back to his car. Maybe he kept his change in the front seat, I thought. As he was halfway down my walk, I was convinced that wasn’t the case. Then I said in a more stern voice, “Can I have…THREE…DOLLARS…back please?” He waved again, then got in his car and drove away.

I called my local Domino’s and spoke with a manager who said he’d have the driver come back with my money. I told him I didn’t want the driver to come back, and asked that he just “credit” my phone number for my next order. He said he couldn’t do that, though after some back and forth, he agreed to it.

Obviously it’s not the fact that I’m out three bucks. It’s the fact that the grinning jackass driver smiled as he took my money, netting an $8 tip for a $22 delivery.

This is my punishment for ordering heinous, flavorless, cardboard, vomit pie.

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