Customer service: it is important!

So last night, I basically made Mindy go get pizza with me.

Let’s start this by pointing out that I love pizza. I mean really love pizza. My love for pizza goes past the normal bounds. I think it’s great. I make my own. I enjoy it the way some people enjoy fine wines. I heart pizza. Understand?

I’d been craving pizza for a few days, so after Sunday p.m. church and after I could tear Mindy away from the video camera (for a women’s event, don’t ask) I made her go eat with me. I didn’t realize that it was practically 8 p.m., which would explain why I was so hungry and why someone at church told me I looked peaked. That also could have been because I’m fairly sure none of my clothes matched, I was wearing my NASA T-shirt, and dressed in what I call “homeless chic.” But we’ll move on from that.

Anyway, I decided we were going to the Snappy Tomato, which is a pizza buffet. I didn’t expect gourmet. . . I went there because I knew it was cheap and I could get lots of different kinds of pizza instead of just one.

Um, yeah. We get there and there is one other group of people there. We get our salads, but we’re a bit weirded out by the Italian dressing, which although not the creamy kind is really, really thick. And sort of gross looking. I did not choose to partake of it.

Then we get to the pizza buffet. Which looks like locusts (or a hungry youth group) descended on it 2 hours ago and they haven’t replenished. There is basically 10 pans of pizza up there with one piece on them. And the ones with more than one piece look like they’ve been there for eons and aren’t at all appetizing. I pick the most promising piece of cheese and sit down. Mindy gets nothing. We continue to hope that more pizza is coming. They don’t close until 9 p.m., they still have customers, there should still be food.

OK, I know I’m going to sound like an old lady here, but the oldest employee appeared to be the college-aged manager type. And instead of refilling the pizzas, all the employees seemed to be standing at the front of the restaurant by the cash registers texting people. One employee started fixing up his to-go boxes of food since his shift was ending.

Finally, we see fresh pizzas come out of the oven. And no one comes to get them. Finally, 10 minutes later, the new pizza finds its way to the buffet and Mindy and I (and the guys at the other table) rush the bar for more food. At this point, I’m stockpiling because I’m convinced no more pizza is coming out and I’m getting my money’s worth. And, to make matters worse, the employees who are about to close are going through the line, too, and taking a lot of the freshly made pizza. This sort of infuriated me, because, well, there were still customers to feed. Later, one employee came by and asked if we were done with the salad bar so they could begin taking it up. Early.

I understand the desire to get out of there as fast as you can after closing. I really do. But you’re open until 9 p.m. That means that you are making food and keeping the salad bar open until 9 p.m. We made the best out of the situation and left, the sound of the employees locking the door behind us echoing out onto the parking lot as we walked to our cars.

YOU CLOSE AT 9 P.M. SNAPPY TOMATO.

I’m just saying.