I’ve angered the pizza troll. I’ve been trying to come to terms with this all week, shrugging off the troll’s importance in my life, but let’s face it; I need to win the pizza troll back over. I need to get back in the troll’s good graces.
It happened innocently enough. Last week before our big TV night I ordered pizza. Who knew if you paid with a credit card you were supposed to announce your tip on the spot? I sure didn’t. Plus, I’m old fashioned. I want to see the service first. I mean honestly, the guy could stomp on my pizza and there he’d be rewarded with a couple of measly dollars feeling good about himself and there would be my pizza doing a wonderful impersonation of the treads on his shoes.
So, here comes the pizza guy, pizza in hand and I quietly size it all up and decide a tip shall be rewarded. I’m giving the guy a tip. He hands me the receipt but there’s no “tip” line. “Where do I write in the tip?” The troll growled, “you can’t. You have to do that before hand.” I was completely embarrassed. I mean, I thought I had the delivery rituals down like I have weddings, funerals and football games down. I usually know when to sit, stand, cheer or just shut-up. I was going pink because I had absolutely no cash on me. I had pennies and really, it’s just better to not give a tip than to unload twenty pennies on a guy. Fortunately, Jay recognized my upset noises coming from the door and ran over with a $5. I held it up proudly. Salvation!! Oh looky, we do have a tip! I showed it to the troll and he handed me the receipts to sign.
I had to go back in the house because I couldn’t get his pen to write while using my leg as a table. I apologized, said I’d be right back but that I had to close the door a bit since the cats were becoming very interested in an escape. See, they know pizza trolls are outdoor enablers and the trolls will always watch them run out the door with a completely blank expression.
“Can you turn the light back on?” That’s just common courtesy, but I couldn’t. Our porch light has a sensor that detects movement. It doesn’t stay on and no, you’re not smarter than we are so stop thinking you could drop by and magically make it happen. I told the guy “it’s on a sensor, just move around and it will come back on” meanwhile I’m trying to close the door and sign this thing.
Well, he starts messing with the light explaining that there are switches. Mm hmm. Really? Switches you say. Wow, we would have never thought to try those. Then after fiddling with it he makes it so the light absolutely won’t come on. Good work, troll.
I hand him the signed receipt and the man stomps off. This isn’t even one of my “oh, Beth’s exaggerating moments” – no, the man stomped. I looked at Jay and Jay looked at me and we kind of snickered and said “what an angry little man who just got $5 – can’t even say thank you.”
That’s when we found my copy of the receipt sitting on top of the $5. “Oh SHIT! Jay, we didn’t give the man a tip.” “We can’t order from there again!” “God, he’s probably keying the car.”
So, we’re about to face Battlestar Galactica tonight sans pizza. A sad day because I like to face my Cylons with a slice of pepperoni. How can I watch Starbuck implode without any sign of pasta sauce? Oh… what a sad, sad, TV night. At least the Chinese food deliver guy still loves me.