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How to Lose a Loyal 30-Year Customer (A Training Manual)

I can't personally verify the truth of this story. A friend told it, and I felt it was comic gold, given a few minor tweaks. I also have to question my friend's taste in pizza. Sir Pizza is a chain joint out of Indiana. That said, Indiana is home to some of the worst excuses for pizza I have ever encountered. Living in the greater Pittsburgh area, my friend and I are not lost for choices when it comes to pizza. Not sure where to go? Ask. - MM


I have been eating Sir Pizza for roughly three decades, which is longer than some marriages and at least one of my cholesterol medications. I don’t just order it - I commit to it. I drive out of my way. I plan evenings around it. If Sir Pizza had a loyalty punch card, I’d be entitled to partial ownership by now.

Today, however, I made a grave and unforgivable error.

I ordered from the wrong location.

Not the wrong pizza, mind you. Not anchovies instead of pepperoni. No, I ordered the correct pizza from the incorrect geographic coordinate, which, as it turns out, is a moral failing on par with tax evasion.

I arrived at the Franklin Park location, full of hope and mild hunger, only to discover that my pizza existed… elsewhere. Fifteen minutes elsewhere. A pizza exile.

Naturally, I said, “Well, that’s on me. Let me just order a pizza here since I’m already standing in front of you like a reasonable human being.”

This is when things took a turn.

I was informed - very calmly, the way one might explain the rules of a complicated board game - that they could not sell me a pizza. Not because they lacked dough. Not because the oven had unionized. But because it would be unfair to the other Sir Pizza location.

Unfair.

To a building.

To preserve inter-store harmony, I was told I must drive to the original location and retrieve my pizza like a penitent pilgrim. In fact, I was also informed that I would be unable to order from the Franklin Park location for the next 24 hours, presumably to give me time to reflect on my actions and grow as a person.

When I suggested that I had other obligations and perhaps could not embark on a pizza-based road trip, this was not received as compelling.

Karen, the owner, looked at me with the calm certainty of someone who has seen this sort of lawlessness before.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” she said.

And I have.

I have learned that loyalty is no match for pizza jurisdiction.

I have learned that fairness between two Sir Pizza locations outweighs a 30-year customer standing right in front of you, holding money, and asking for food.

And most importantly, I have learned that somewhere, out there, is a pizza I will never eat.

Goodbye, Sir Pizza. We had a good run.

But I refuse to be taught life lessons by a pepperoni.


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