I’m a creature of intermittent habits. Once I get into a routine that works for me, I tend to stick with it until it either becomes a hassle, or until something better comes along.
Take, for instance, lunch.
For most of February, I’ve been getting two slices of pepperoni pizza from Pagliacci daily. For the most part, they have pretty decent pizza, and the price is right.
Yesterday, however, I broke the habit.
I did so because, for three days in a row, each time I stopped at the Queen Anne Pagliacci, they always had 3 pies ready, but none of them were pepperoni.
Why were none of them pepperoni?
Because as soon as they put a pepperoni pie under the glass, it sold out.
Even though the pepperoni sold out as soon as it hit the counter, the staff at Pagliacci insisted on baking at least two non-pepperoni pies for each pepperoni they baked.
I don’t know. Whether it is stupidity or stubbornness, I cannot say, but after three days of having to settle for cheese or spinach pizza, I decided to make a change.
Therefore, yesterday, in revolt, I decided to develop a new routine with another favorite … Hot Mama’s Pizza on Pine Street.
At about one in the afternoon, I went inside Hot Mamma’s clutching a $10 bill, ready to fill my piehole with pepperoni-y goodness, but when I got to the counter, what did I find? Spinach, tomato, sausage, onions, pineapple … wait … “Where is the pepperoni?”, I exclaimed.
“Let me check up top”, said the man behind the counter, and upon standing on his toes to look at the top of the oven, he said, “Oh, sorry, we sold all of the pepperoni.”
They had six pies sitting in Hot Mamma’s, but exactly zero of those pies were of the variety that sell out immediately.
Has the world gone mad? What is wrong with these restaurants? Are the owners bad business people? Are the employees trying to sabotage the restaurants? Is someone trying to make a point?
And so, I sit here today, writing an open letter, in a last-ditch, desperate cry for help.
Dear Seattle Pizza Restaurants,
Kurt Cobain could get away with not playing Teen Spirit at his concerts because he was Kurt Fucking Cobain.
You, on the other hand, are pizza restaurants. You put sauce and toppings on a thin layer of dough and sell it for profit. You are a one in a million establishment. A one-trick pony.
Pepperoni got boring? Don’t want to make another pepperoni pie?
Tough shit, make one anyway. Better yet, make five.
It’s what people want, and imagine what could happen if you gave customers what they wanted.
You could afford to pay your employees more. Hell, you could probably give them health insurance too. If you give customers what they want, it would be like printing money.
If I walk into a goddamn pizza joint, and I say “Can I get a slice of pepperoni?”, the answer should be “Fuck yeah you can get a slice of pepperoni! We’re a pizza restaurant aren’t we? Of course you can get a slice of pepperoni! You can get as many slices of pepperoni as you want!”
^This. This should be your answer to the question “Can I get a slice of pepperoni?” ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OF THE TIME.
If you frequently run out of pepperoni, however, and you insist on trying to sell the world on your latest and greatest gourmet creation, people are going to get pissed off. People like me. People who, if you give me what I want, and you do it with a smile, will make you rich.
Think about it. If your customers wanted something other than pepperoni pizza, they would go oh I don’t know … ANYWHERE ELSE!
I swear to God, the next time I walk into a pizza joint to get a slice, and they don’t have pepperoni, I’m going to …
Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I promise you this much … it won’t be pretty. I’ll probably quickly walk away, and once I get out of earshot, I’ll mumble angrily under my breath, send a series of unflattering tweets, and throw the biggest passive-aggressive hissy fit Seattle has ever seen.
I’ll do it, too.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.