Size Matters

So me and my boo went to Donato's, a pizzeria chain, the other day. Caroline had one of those enourmous coupon books with HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS IN SAVINGS! WEE! and so we decided to hit up Donato's for their sweet deals. So I call them up and the following conversation takes place...

Demure Teenager or Disappointed Twenty-something Pizza Guy: Donato's. Pick up or delivery?

Me: Pick up.

Pizza Guy: Okay. What do you want?

Me: Can I get a small pie?

Pizza Guy: A what?

Me: A small pizza.

Now let's stop here for a moment. This is not related to my post really, but I would just like to bring it up. Ahem... DEAR PIZZA SERVICES, WHEN I SAY "PIE" IT MEANS "PIZZA PIE". YOU WORK AT A PIZZA PARLOR! I'M NOT ASKING FOR GRANDMA'S FRESH BAKED APPLE FRITTERS! Love, Bill.

So let's continue...

Me: A small pizza.

Pizza Guy: How do you want that?

Me: Plain.

Pizza Guy: Tomato sauce?

Me: Yep.

Pizza Guy: Cheese?

Me: .....Yeah. I would like cheese too.

Pizza Guy: Okay, it'll be ready in 14 minutes.

Me: Thanks, bye.

I should have known something was up when the pizza guy asked if I wanted tomato sauce and cheese on my pizza, but we headed off to Donato's because we were hungry. When Caroline and I walk inside, there are no customers (probably because it's after 11) and the receptionist girl is on the phone. So we start heading back towards the kitchen area to get our pizza. Then...

Stereotypical Teenage Girl Chewing Gum and Talking To Her Boyfriend on the Store's Phone: Uh... can I help you guys?

Me: Yeah, we're here to pick up a pizza. It's under "Bill".

Girl: (still with phone to her ear as she searches for our name) Bill, Bill, Bill. Hmm. You're not in here. (returns to talking to her boyfriend, the following sentence was said in baby talk, but it wouldn't make sense if I typed it that way) Aw I don't know, I'll talk to you later baby. I wuv you. (Kisses reciever) Mwa.

At this point I had to pick up a pamphlet about pepperoni to keep from cracking up. I lean to Caroline on the verge of overwhelming laughter, "Look, pepperoni." You know how you have to say anything to take your mind off of something ridiculous? That's how it was.

Girl: What's your name again? (She has yet to hang up the phone, despite saying goodbye to her boyfriend)

Me: Bill.

Girl: Bill. Bill. Bill. (Her boyfriend says something on the phone, presumably making fun of her) Stop it! Haha. C'mon, Rick, stop it!

Me: It was a small pie. Small pizza.

Girl: Okay here it is. Personal pizza.

Then she goes off to get it. Now, you read it and I heard it. She said "PERSONAL PIZZA". Personal. There is nothing personal about what I ordered. That shit was supposed to be tandem.





Dear Personal Pizza,

You dishonor all that pizza stands for.





She comes out and hands me a box about the size of a discman circa 1990. I look inside and it is a round pizza with the same mass as a single slice of Pizza Hut pizza. And I hate Pizza Hut.

Me: Oh, I didn't order the personal pizza, I ordered a small.

Girl: (suprisingly snappy) Well we don't make small. We only have medium and large.

So here's the point of this entry today. YOU CAN'T FUCKING HAVE ONLY MEDIUM AND LARGE! Without a "small" there can be no "medium". Medium is not an actual size, it is a comparison between two other extremes. Medium is in the middle. Not at Donato's. "Medium" apparently translates as "small", and "small" apparently translates to "fuck with the customer". Imagine, for a moment, that you work at a pizza parlor. When someone orders a small pizza, do you automatically assume that they want the kid's menu?

I'm not really pissed at Donato's or their employees, I'm just upset with this national trend of not having small. I know we're big America and everything is "supersized", but just eliminate the medium! I was at a place in south Philly last year and asked just for a small soda, but they said they don't have smalls. When I asked what sizes they do have, the guy over the counter said this to me, "We have medium, large, and extra large". My head almost exploded at the logic of it.

On the way back, having eaten our pizza in about 10 bites combined, Caroline and I talked about other stupid sizing issues. Which brings me to the mother of all complaints I have with stores and their size options.

Starbucks.

First of all, I think Wawa coffee is better than Starbucks, so rarely am I found ordering anything there (proudly approaching 2 years). Maybe it's just that I have too much pride or I'm a whiny bitch, but I refuse to order a "tall" "venti" or "grande" (is that last one even correct?). Let's take a walk back to the summer after graduation.

Starbucks Employee: Hi can I help you?

Me: Yes, I'll have a caramel machi-a... machioto? Mah-kee-ah-toe. I can't say it, but I'll have a small.

Starbucks Employee: Caramel machiato. You want a tall?

Me: A small.

Starbucks Employee: Uh, okay. (To her co-worker) Can I get a tall caramel machiato? (back to me) Okay, that'll be one hundred million dollars.

Okay, Starbucks employee. I know you feel hip that you work at Starbucks and want to talk in the magical language that people speak at Starbucks. But you see, I just ventured in from the real world and I don't speak this language. And I believe that you once came from the real world too, and that you know what I mean when I say "small".

Anyway, that's my assinine complaint for today.