The Demanding Customer

The other night on my way out of town, my friend and I stopped in Layton to have dinner with her husband. They decided on Brick Oven (not a favorite of mine) as I was not planning on eating since I had a giant lunch and was not really hungry.

Brick Oven is a well-known pizza place here in Utah that has recently been expanding to other locations outside of Provo. The building in Layton is much nicer than the one in Provo, with the one exception being that the lights are too close to the table and much, much too bright. I quickly remedied that by unscrewing the light bulb. Seriously, people, it was blinding.

The server came up to us and introduced himself by saying, "My name's Zach*. But people also call me Frodo. It probably has to do with my extremely good looks or something."

Uh-huh.

I had decided that a dessert pizza would be just the ticket to dining without eating a giant meal. I was dreaming of the giant cinnamon roll they sell at The Pie, but could not find a dessert pizza listed anywhere on the menu. When I asked if Frodo had a dessert menu, he didn't know, but we discovered it on the table. No dessert pizzas were listed. However, there was a Sampler item, which included all you can eat pizza samples with a dessert pizza at the end.

I just wanted the dessert pizza. Frodo was confused and tried to sell me on the Sampler. And in particular the garlic chicken pizza, which sounded like vomit on a piece of cardboard.

When I asked him what sorts of dessert pizza were offered on this Sample - there were three pictured, but you couldn't really tell what they were - Frodo didn't know, and confessed that he had only been a server for a few days.  I insisted that I really wanted a dessert pizza, and could he please ask what they had available?

Instead, a manager approached the table.

At this point, I felt as though I were being a troublesome customer. Or, at least that is what it appeared to be. However, it shouldn't have been this difficult. I wanted dessert pizza. They have dessert pizzas. Why couldn't we make this work, and why couldn't he just tell me what kind of dessert pizzas were available?! It was sort of absurd.

After the manager explained to me the different types of dessert pizza (nothing cinnamon roll-like), I decided upon the berry cobbler pizza. And then Frodo and the manager proceeded to check back on me several times.

"Your pizza just went into the oven."
"Ok. Great!"

"Your pizza is cooking right now, but it will be done real soon."
"Thanks."

"I just saw them pulling out your pizza. We'll have it to you shortly."
"Fantastic."

"Here's the pizza, does it look OK?"
"Looks good."

"How's it taste?" (This said with a gleam in his eye, as if he had just delivered a most precious pizza made out of the most delightful ingredients that could be from nowhere else. As if he had done me a great favor, and was ready to be lavished in praises and gratitude.... or maybe I was just reading into it.)
"Really good. Just what I wanted."

Only it wasn't. Actually, it was pretty good. No complaints there, except the mild comment that the topping to fruit ratio was a little off.

I felt like they were really trying to appease me. As if they were afraid I would make a scene and storm out of the store if they didn't give me what I had demanded. I found it mildly hilarious. I don't think I have ever been waited on so much.

Why am I telling this story? Mostly because I don't want to write a post about how much I hated today at work.

*Name has been changed, because...well, frankly, I don't remember.