Stairway To Hell

If there's one thing I've learned over the course of my ten years delivering, it's that people will never fail to disappoint. You would think that after 120 months there'd be nothing left in the average customer's repertoire to shock me. You'd think that the well of crazy would've run dry after having my life threatened by the 43rd creek dwelling crack head. You'd also think that my nostrils would've been thoroughly roto-rootered clean from the slew of seventy-year-old seniors that love to hoard cats.  Well, I've learned that that's impossible. No matter how tenured you are, you will still be caught off guard by the ludicrous behavior of those that you're forced to serve. 

Anyway, I recently received a call from a customer that went a little something like this:

WAYNE: How can I help you?
CUSTOMER: How far do I live away?
WAYNE: Uhhhhh. What?
CUSTOMER: How far do I live away? I live off of Olive St.
WAYNE: Um, about two miles. 
CUSTOMER: Well then, where's my food?
WAYNE: I don't know. Let me pull up your order.
CUSTOMER: You do that.
WAYNE: It says you placed the order 18 minutes ago. It's probably just coming out of the oven. We have to bake the pies first. Plus, we told you it'd take 35 to 45 minutes.
CUSTOMER: Yeah, but I have to walk down stairs when you guys get here.
CUSTOMER: I live in a two story house and I have to walk down stairs to meet you guys...

Well in that case, my apologies. We should have gotten the pizza there 15 minutes before you even ordered it. I mean, if I would've known that you had to walk down a single flight of stairs I might of expedited your order to the front of the line. I should've just pushed you ahead of the veteran that ordered before you that's stuck in a wheelchair because he took some shrapnel from an Al Qaeda IED. Also, fuck those families that had the foresight to preorder a day in advance. Just because they're responsible doesn't mean they should get priority.  Hell, why don't I just grab a gurney and send out a couple of our younger drivers to lug you down the stairwell. That way we can save you and your calves the unnecessary effort of having to waddle down a half-dozen steps. Better yet, we'll just station a few insiders in the attic of your house. That way, whenever you get the urge to eat pizza, we can just place the order for you and bring it right up. No wait, no fuss.