Sunday, February 26, 2012

Moms.

Past the obvious, the people who come in during the day appear to be personalities apart from those that travel through for dinner.  The "lunch bunch" usually are loners, who grab a slice and take up a four person table to themselves for twenty minutes.  While the lunch rush is typically from noon to one it does not make the knees of the weak crumble like those workers on a Friday night who just want to run out of the shop screaming (myself included). There is however, one type of customer, whom I fear the night time workers could not handle: The moms.

Looking at the door the minute a stroller is pulling up makes a day worker not only groan but shake in fear.  Chances are that stroller is packing at least two kids in it and three more are hanging off the sides.  The pizza maker practically throws four more cheese pies in the oven before the group even makes it up to the counter because no doubt, once one stroller comes in, about a billion more are to follow.  This group of ladies has been coined the "mom brigade."  And the only thing worse than a bunch of shouting crazy kids, are the moms they belong to who have bottled up the anger their husbands have given them during the week.

And what better place to dispel their tude than at our shop?  Sassy moms without a doubt are what the day time staff fears the most.  There is a possible theory of a mom conspiracy, maybe they have a secret society or Facebook group, I wonder.  Of course we don't have the slice they want.  The dressing isn't as low fat enough, might as well put water on it misses.  Their kids slice is too hot.  Can we cut three out of their eight slices in pieces?  What is weird is that these moms seem to have it all under control, their hair is perfect, their outfit is cute, and sometimes their kids are even polite, yet, they act like they're going crazy.  Walking into the kids section during this rush is a bad choice.  While the kids gather at the small tables to enjoy their pizza the moms all sit in a circle gossiping away, giving you the up and down as you walk by, doesn't make a girl feel so good when shes wearing jeans splattered in sauce and a t-shirt that smells like you rolled in old food. 

These ladies are like a high school click.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Regulars.

I have helped a countless amount of people at work, from families, single parents, youngsters out on dates, and people who get a bite to eat on their own.  Most of the time the faces of customers blend together and I'm not always sure if I have helped them out before or not.  But there are a hand full of people whose order I have memorized down to if they like a side of ranch to dip their slice in.  I like to call these people "the regulars."  Sir Mark* orders a large cheese pie every Friday, Kmart Boy* gets pepperoni and an order of breadsticks, and Sam* likes a slice of cheese with an extra large drink.  This is just a small list.  There are a ton of people who work in the surrounding stores who get their lunch or dinner at our shop every night.  And while most of them are pleasant and friendly, others act as if they have never seen us before.  In fact a few of these non smiling people act almost freaked out that I spit out their order for them.

There is one man though who outshines all of the regulars: TJ*.  Nearly every night he comes in for dinner by himself, with his iPad and newspaper.  He either gets a salad or his own custom slice which he has dubbed Jennifer Aniston.*  TJ* asks us the most ridiculous questions and orders non menu items, such as a cheese slice without the cheese.  He pulls pranks constantly on the whole staff and always seems to put us in a good mood.  Lastly, he always stands up for us when another customer has something negative to say and its not unusual for him to close out the restaurant.

None the less, all of us at the shop enjoy seeing a familiar face when we're working.  It takes the away the awkwardness of talking about the weather with a random person.  Also when we're running around on a Friday wanting to whack customers with the pizza peel (metal spatula you use to pick up slices) when a regular walks in they keep you grounded, you smile, collect yourself, and remember you're working and you're representing a company.


*Name changed

New.

I don't know if it is the slow confused walk to the counter or what seems like a million years for a person to place their order, but you don't have to tell me if it is the first time you have been to our pizza shop.  You would think that the detailed boards telling you each menu item, and the labelled slices would make finding what you want easy.  A typical conversation goes like this..

Me: Hi how are you?! (half real enthusiam)

Customer: Good, this is my first time.

Me: (^ sexual joke in my head) Okay, well I can help you with any questions.

Customer: What's that? (points at labeled slice)

Me: (Reads label)

Customer: What's that? (points at labeled slice)

Me: (Reads label)

Customer: What about that? (points at labeled slice)

Me: (Reads label)

Customer: I'll just have a piece of cheese.

It puzzles me how a person comes into a gourmet pizza shop and settles for a slice of cheese; way to step out of your comfort zone.  Now I realize I'm not one to always try something new, but with delicious fresh ingredients staring me in the face it's hard to pass up trying something a little different.

The absolute best part of having new people stroll into the shop is watching them struggle to find the trash bin at the conclusion of their meal.  We have two trash reciprocals: one by the door and one by the counter.  Did I mentioned that they have a big sign that says "TRASH" on them?  For my own amusement I like to watch them walk up and down the length of the restaurant twice before I point them in the right direction.  Some giggle it off for missing the signs, while others, usually the manly men, try to hide their embarrassment.

Your questions may annoy me you newcomers but you do give me a good laugh.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Welcome.

I find myself talking about pizza more than the average person.  As a 21 year old my job as a pizza maker is the most exciting part of my day, no longer the juicy gossip or sports stats that consumed daily high school conversation.  Three years ago I was constantly on the go: school, soccer practice/games, work, and hanging out with friends.  Now in college, I zombie walk to class only to run to my car afterward to make it to work on time.  My biggest worry went from being on the outside of juvenile rumors to if I ordered enough plum tomatoes to make us through the weekend. 

Working at the pizza shop for over a year there are days where I have no idea what to expect when I walk through the door.  Some afternoons all I can hear is the hum of the oven as the seating area remains empty.  Other days I feel like I have discovered why America is so obese.

It is the people that make going to work worth it.  From the regulars, the "we've never been here", and to the staff, each  group brings some interesting to the table.  Plenty of times I wanted to climb into the oven myself to escape the madness of a line out the door, not to mention the daily use of "I'm totally quitting."  But, I'm still there as much as I want to leave some days.  It's the people that keep me there, because as sad as it seems, pizza makes my life.