Saturday, April 2, 2011

The Domino Effect

The other day I decided to order pizza. Not just any pizza. Domino's (my favorite). I wanted to make it as inexpensive as possible, so I used a coupon and reluctantly chose the "carry out" option at checkout.

I had a good plan. I set out in my car and stopped along the way to obtain a beverage from another local establishment, rather than pay more for a soda. All was going well. Feeling pretty confident about myself, I parked my car at the pizza store and went inside.

"Hi, I'm Cydni. I placed an order for carry out a little while ago. I'm just wondering if it's ready yet." This is what I told the friendly girl behind the counter.

"Just a moment." She tapped the keys of her computer. "What was your name again?"

"Cydni, but it's spelled all crazy so most people read it as Cindy." I replied helpfully. You know, in case she was reading my name wrong.

"Hmm." She stared at her computer screen and tapped a few more keys. "Um, I'm not finding you here. Are you sure you placed an order? And it was for takeout?"

"Yeah. I got the screen that said 'thanks for your order.' I'm positive I placed it. You don't see it there?"

"No. Are you sure you ordered from Pizza Hut? It could have been someplace else. Domino's?"

I experienced a peculiar sensation at that moment, as I pulled my gaze away from the girl behind the counter and focused on the counter itself, where my clever brain had perceived writing but had paid it no mind. I stared in horror at the words, "Pizza Hut," which were emblazoned at least once on every surface in the store.

"Do you think maybe you ordered from some other place?" The girl continued.

"Um, that's probably it. I should check." I mumbled.

"Ok, have a great day!"

"Ok, thank you!"

I was backing out of the establishment with full awareness that my face was as red as a lobster. In my car, I googled 'Domino's Logan Ut' from my phone and came up with a phone number, which I called, but the nice fellow who answered had no record of my order. He did, however, mention that perhaps my order had gone to the North Logan store.

Too embarrassed to ask where the North Logan store was, I thanked him and hung up. Then I began driving north on Main Street in hopes that I would see a Domino's sign. If that failed, I hoped to simply go home and see if the restaurant would change my order to Delivery, since I clearly had no idea what I was doing.

In case anybody was wondering, the North Logan Domino's is in full view on Main Street. It's on the left as you travel North. The sign and store are both lit up like Christmas, which does not account for why I had never seen it before. Feeling greatly humbled, I parked my car and went inside.

"hi, um, a little while ago I tried to place an order online. Do you guys have any record of that?"

"Oh, sure." My pizza was safe and sound on a warming table. I could see it. "What do you mean you tried to place an order? Did you have trouble?"

"Oh no, I, um, went to the wrong store. The South Logan store didn't know anything about it." I hoped she would infer that I had only gone to the South Logan Domino's and not, you know, to Pizza Hut.

My discomfort must have been obvious.

"Oh, don't worry about it." The girl reassured me as I paid and gathered up my dinner. "It happens all the time. Every day, lots of times a day. We're used to it."

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