Erika Bonham dot com

January 24, 2005

Last Saturday was Shane's birthday. Around lunch time, I asked him what he wanted to eat and he said pizza from this little pizza place down the road. We had never ordered from there before so I got out the phone book and ordered a pizza. They had 2 locations listed, one in our town and one in the next town over. I was told it would be ready in 15 minutes, so in 15 minutes I left to pick up the pizza. The place is literally a minute from our house. I get there and there are no customers there.

"I am here to pick up an order for Erika," I said.

"We don't have an order for Erika," they replied.

Strange. They have three locations, they said. Maybe you called the one just up the road, they suggested.

So, I got in the car and drove to the other location. No pizza for Erika. I am frustrated. I feel so stupid. I don't have my cell phone on me and I left Ethan at home, crying with Shane. I was only supposed to be gone a few minutes and I am thinking he will be worried. I also don't want to have to drive all the way across town to get a stupid pizza when I can drive a minute and get one. I didn't even plan on eating the pizza. So, I head home empty handed. They had taken my name when I ordered, but not my phone number and, as awful as it is, I didn't go get the pizza. A pepperoni and olive pizza went to waste and I ruined Shane's birthday.

So, last night. We decide to order pizza. I have a flyer this time with the right phone number. I call and place my order. The girl asks me my name and my phone number this time. After telling her my name, she says "You know we are located on East Vista Way, right?"

I am so embarrassed. I am thinking they have this sign next to the register with my name on it and that I am a crank orderer or something and she knows it's me and is not going to let me get away with it again. Who knows if she did or if it was just a coincidence, but I was so ashamed that I stood up that pizza. How would she know I was that Erika? I immediately wished I had made up a fake name or something. I then had to walk into the place to pick up the pizza. By that time, I had had a half an hour to compose myself. They didn't shoot me or confront me about it. I couldn't see a note by the register with my name on it. I don't think they spit on our pizza. It all worked out okay and I learned my lesson, I guess. Pay more attention when using the phonebook. Read the actual addresses. Or, make Shane order his own pizza, even if it is his birthday.

♥