Today, Pizza Pizza really proved to me why I’ve always considered them to pizza as you would Rabba to a grocery store…it’s got the basics, but if you’re looking for something less than mild disappointment, you better go find yourself at your local Supermarket. In fact, if it wasn’t for their creamy garlic dipping sauce, I would probably just put Pizza Pizza on my list of things not to do (I’m allergic to eggs, and their dipping sauce happens to be the only garlic dipping sauce that doesn’t have my little death ingredient in it…*sigh*). What I should have done to save stomach (nope, still have zero answers or relief concerning my stomach issues…yaayyy me!) and money and to have not been imaginarily kicking myself in the ass for 25 minutes while I sat on hold with customer service while they figured out how to do their job was to just order from Swiss Chalet. I don’t know WHAT my major malfunction was today, but I was dying for some chicken strips with my creamy garlic goodness and I just couldn’t imagine living without it.
When these people finally arrive at my door, the hubby goes up to get the order…and takes a little while. When he returns, his face is a little tentative and grim, and I know immediately that I am NOT gonna like whatever it is that he has to say. “Can you call them please?” he says, and my spidey-sense starts tingling. I’m the type of gal who does NOT like making orders over the phone, or speaking to random (hell, even sometimes close people to me) on the phone. A situation where he just KNOWS I’m gonna be making a call?!? CRAP, it’s about to get ugly…but it’s been such a nice day so far…stupid Pizza Pizza, ruining my vibe. “Why? What happened?” I ask, thinking it must be something wrong with the toppings on his pizza. “Well, they ran out of chicken strips at the store, so they gave you chicken bites instead”…ummmmmmmm….EXCUSE me? You’re shitting me right?
You’re trying to tell me that these people HAD my phone number, KNEW they had no chicken strips prepared for me or available or whatever, so they just DECIDE to substitute something else into my order without even a quick phone call to check if that shit would even fly with me? And then you send the delivery boy (probably an old man, but hey, it sounds quirkier that way) with the news so that I can shoot the messenger? Maybe stiff him on a tip cause I’m peeved as hell and I’m one of those lazy, unmotivated people who can’t hold a thought long enough to carry through and just call customer service for a refund?!?!…HELL no, y’all have messed with the wrong chick this time baby, pass me the phone I’m calling them STAT. I don’t CARE that they gave me more bits than strips, I don’t care that the bits cost more, I don’t even care that they gave me chicken, it’s the principle here. And I’m getting some type of compensation for my time, energy, and mental anguish over the f***ery. Point blank *dials angrily while eyes flash maliciously*.
So, after a few minutes on hold, I finally get some customer service dude who I calmly explain my situation to. 20 minutes and about 15 minutes worth of holding muzak later I find myself accepting a credit on my account of roughly half the value of the strips I should have gotten. Fine. At this point I’m starving, and even though it isn’t what I was expecting, I gotta eat something. So I dig in to my garlic cheese sticks as I pile a few bits onto my plate. Pulling back the seal on my long-coveted creamy garlic dip, I cover my first bit in creamy goodness and promptly bite in. My mouth is filled with a garlicy deliciousness which is only barely hiding something that tastes a bit…off. Not good. Something I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna swallow. But it looked fine when I picked it out of the box, I think to myself as I look down at the uneaten half of my bit. “How is it?” the hubby asks. “Its raw” I answer around my still unswallowed mouthful. Seriously, I’m the closest to perplexed I have ever been. Did they seriously, honestly, really and truly give me bits instead of strips without any notice and then not even cook the damn replacement crap that I never even wanted thoroughly? What kind of nonsense game is Pizza Pizza playing with me today?
So back to customer service I go, ranting all the way (right after I spit out my mouthful of raw chicken bit….told ya, I was NOT gonna swallow it). Nicely, of course, actually probably laughing just a bit. After all, the situation IS laughable. After listening to the situation and placing me on hold he comes back and tells me “Well you have two options….first is you can leave the credit you have on your account as is (I literally snort at this assinine suggestion…cause yeah buddy, I totally called back so you could leave everything exactly as is), the second is we can remove that and give you a different credit which will consider everything you’ve been through”…ummmm…how about the second one, jackass?? “Ok, well in that case, we’ll remove the $4 credit on your account and apply the maximum that we can, which is $5″….(pause) yes, the pause is because steam is pouring from my ears…”Ummm…no, that’s not the maximum. Dude, I’m not eating raw chicken. You can come and take the crap outta my house, but I want the full thing refunded back to me. A, I never wanted the damn bits in the first place and would have cancelled the ENTIRE order if I knew I couldn’t have the strips (true story; the only reason we got food from crap ville is because of the strips and dip) and B, the bits are raw. There is NO way I can even eat them in this condition.” And back on hold I go while he goes to “review” the situation.
The whole while I’m munching away at garlic cheese sticks dipped in my creamy desire. But my poor, sick stomach does NOT like this random fast food assault and decides to rebel. At a dead run I make it into the living room, THROW the phone at my hubby and say “baby, take the phone!” before sprinting to the bathroom to begin hugging the toilet bowl. Again, Yayyy me! So now the whole damn meal is a waste, and I’m seriously annoyed at myself for just not getting the damn Swiss Chalet like I knew I should have. But dammit, I wanted to pretend I wasn’t sick for 5 seconds and actually eat some real food. Excuse me for living! I come slinking out of the bathroom minutes later, feeling like I seriously might die. But I find out they credited back the entire 8 bucks. I wonder if they offer credits over personal stupidity. *Sigh*
But hey, I won. So there! I stuck to my principles and I won. Damn skippy!
Have a Happy TGIF! Y’all!