Sunday, March 16, 2003
I cleaned the whole kitchen. Spent the whole day at home with Patrick coding Lodestar. Domino's Pizza for dinner. The guy on the phone had a very thick accent and must have been hard of hearing. When I said to tell the driver to use the side gate, he repeated back to me "Five?! Okay, apartment five!" I had to spell it out—S - I - D - E—to which he replied, "Yes! Five! Apartment Five!" My eyes rolled as though my neck were paralyzed and a meteor shower passed overhead. The conversation I had with him was perhaps twice as long as it should have been, and there were other similar misunderstandings. When the pizza finally arrived, there was no salad! We found out that he didn't understand we also had ordered a salad with it. Yeesh! I thought about complaining, but then I figured it would probably just be the guy's brother with an even thicker accent on the line at Customer Support or Guest Relations or whatever euphemism they have for what is really just the toll-free complaint line. I didn't feel the need tonight to spell out the words "delivery" and "problem" for someone who might not understand them.