The Town I Am In

I am sitting at work, with a mountain of paperwork to complete. Not an overwhelming amount, but more than I usually have to do.

I am starving, but there are people in the store, and I am working alone. So I use one of those nifty online food ordering services that were so very popular in 2009. I find a restaurant that I like but haven’t ordered from in a year or so, select some comestibles, and click the “Order food” link. 

A minute later I get an e-mail confirmation that reads “Pick-up.”

Fuck.

I call the place I’ve ordered from. “Hi, I just placed an online order, and got a confirmation e-mail letting me know when it would be ready for pick up. I am at work, and had placed the order for delivery.”

The voice on the other end is pretty friendly, but definitely chewing gum. “Ok. Let me check. Nope. I don’t see an order yet.”

"Ok. Well when one comes in with My Name on it, could you make sure it’s marked for delivery and not take out?"

She moves the receiver to sigh, but I still hear her. “Sure thing. Your phone number?”

I give her my number.

"Ok, and your address is (Street I Lived On A Couple Of Years Ago)?"

"Nope." I say. "I’m at work. My address is My Work Address."

"And that’s in Random Town?" She asks.

"Nope. It’s in Town I Am Currently In."

"Same thing, though." She says.

"Not really." I say. "If you send my food to Random Town, I won’t get it."

She puts the phone slightly down, and has a conversation with someone who says “No, they’re not the same place.”

"But close enough?" She asks.

"No." the mysterious guy she is talking to says.

"Ok." she gives me a price "That should be to you in, I don’t know, a half hour."

"Ok." I say, smiling through the phone.

A minute later the phone rings. The voice on the other end of the line sounds irritated. “You just called here about a delivery order, right?”

I reply in the affirmative.

"Ok. There’s an additional two dollar delivery charge." she says, as though this will enrage me.

"That’s fine." I say. "I’m sorry the ordering service complicated things by telling you it was a pickup. I have no problem paying a two dollar delivery fee."

"There’s also a two dollar gratuity fee." She says.

Now this is stupid because I always tip at lest five dollars on a delivery EXCEPT when there’s a delivery fee, then I pay that flat rate. But I recognize that most people don’t tip the way I do, as most of them either never had to work in the service industry, or else are Horrible People. “No problem.” I say.

She hangs up without any further information.

About ten minutes later my phone rings. “Hi is this My Name?”

"Yes it is." I say.

"I have a delivery for you. It says here you’re at Work Address."

"That’s correct." I say. "But I don’t see you."

"Crap." He grunts. "You’re in Town I’m In, and not Random Town, aren’t you?" 

"I am. I was pretty clear to the person who took my order, too."

"I know." He says. "I’m the one who told her they weren’t the same…Look, I’ll be there in about ten minutes, okay?"

"Sure thing."

And in about ten minutes, he shows up with my food, which is still pretty hot. “I’m sorry. The woman who…she…it’s her last week.”

I smile and hand him the money, which includes more than the flat gratuity rate because his day is clearly sucking, and none of this seems to be his fault.

"I mean, we are having a HUGE party when she leaves."

I nod my head. “A going away party. Nice.”

His face gets very serious. “Yea. But she’s not invited.”

"Oh, that’s not very nice."  I say. "You have to invite her. You should just have the party in Town I Am In, and tell her the party is in Random Town."

He smiles and walks back to his car.

I have worn that smile before. It didn’t go well for the person I was angry with.