Pizza ethics

  At issue is poor customer service in a pizza restaurant.  I was weaned from pizza; I have always enjoyed it, even through the great sledgehammer incident of the early 1980s when I saw my precious smashed before my very eyes.  I rank my restaurants; I'm active in rating them online, and I duly realize the predilection of folks to opine on the negatives more frequently than dishing out a, "Hey, good job."  I am neither too quick to become defensive nor overcritical, realizing some battles aren't worth the effort.

  On New Year's Day a pal and I feasted on sumptuous hangover pizza. Mine had prosciutto (yes, prosciutto), peppers, and gouda cheese reminiscent of the great Provel of St. Louis. Leftovers packed, we left. The waitress was friendly enough, but when we got home, they had packed us the wrong pizza (the overpowering Greek one with entire cloves of roasted garlic and mounds of feta aboard - yick).

  I have a slightly different opinion on this than she in that as a hybrid Christian-Buddhist, I feel we should be humble and excuse the oversight; she believes we should have made a stink about it. Other peoples' germs, etc. etc.  The compelling argument of hers was that, "It should be a core competency of servicepeople to not screw that up, it is not too much to ask."  Something clicked inside me that set my pizza-rage aflame:  I was reminded of the expectant hamburger gourmand Wimpy, set to feast on a delicious burger of lettuce, onion, pickle, kumquat, and not getting his prized slider that fateful day, he entered "Hamburger Heaven." Due to his habitual nonpayment ("I shall gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today!"), he was ultimately denied by the irascible burger chef and fell apopleptic.  I was in Pizza Heaven.

  Demanding satisfaction in this instance was not my style, but I at least wanted to call this to the attention of management because it *was* disappointing and I want to test the Buddhist way.  I have about 30% confidence that we will be treated to a replacement.

 
The moral of this story:  Pie-p up when you don't get your hot-za, or forever hold your piece.