Mission: Pizza

Last night we went out for pizza. We went to my favorite place (Round Table). The evening turned out to be yukky. I didn't eat any pizza. When the guy (a gawky teenager) brought my pizza to our table, he stumbled over his two-sizes-too-big Niki's, which were tangled up in his butt-crack-showing pants, and the pizza went flying - on the floor, on the table, on me. It was a mess.

The proprietor offered to make me another (larger) pizza at no charge. I refused, opting for a refund instead.

I have been thinking about the incident - wondering why getting a new, larger pizza for the same price was not acceptable to me. I have three observations so far.

First, a business transaction includes a "time of delivery" agreement or assumption. In the case of pizza, my assumption was that I could have my pizza at about the same time as my family so we could enjoy our food together. Since making a pizza takes about 20 minutes, my family would have been almost done with their meal by the time mine arrived. I was not willing to make the deal if I couldn't enjoy the pizza with my family. This is also why I would never buy a car that can't be delivered in the next few days. I remember when the Toyota Prius first came out. I liked the car and price, but there was a six month waiting list. Hell, in six months there might be a better car available. I'm not paying for something I can't have now.

Second, having pizza is sort of like a mission for me. I suspect this is the case for most men. There are steps to be taken, in a certain order, and the result is a meal. Drive to the restaurant, place the order, wait patiently, get pizza, and eat! Once we set our mind to the mission, any major glitch in the order or time of execution is basically a failed mission. We don't feel like eating when we have failed in the mission.

Third, I note that if I eat when I am upset or off balance in some way my body never feels quite right about it. I suspect the food doesn't really nourish me very much. It's almost like having mild indigestion.

I only have pizza once or twice a year, so I am bummed that I didn't get one last night. Next time, I think I'll wait at the counter for the pizza. I believe I can walk to the table without stumbling over my own feet, and I'm quite sure I won't be showing off my butt crack.