An Open Letter to Domino's

Dear Domino’s Pizza,
Look, I know times have been hard lately. You had those people make videos of themselves doing unholy things to the food, and that certainly kept you in the news for awhile. I wouldn’t be surprised if sales were down. But my brothers and I decided to take a chance on you on Saturday night, when we were too exhausted to go out. My brother William, a public relations guru, applauded how you had handled the crisis, and my brother George and I figured that everyone who works at Domino’s was probably on high alert for bad apples who do unspeakable things to food. We all figured that it just might be the safest time to eat Domino’s Pizza.

First off, let me compliment you on your online ordering system, Domino’s. I appreciate immensely the fact that you’ve removed the need to ever speak to a human when ordering. Instead, all I have to do to order is dial you up online, find a coupon special that fits my needs for the evening, and plug in all my desires – I can even take advantage of a feature that lets me see what my pizza would look like if I put pepperoni on it instead of green peppers. Then I can just sit back and watch this amazing little ticker that lets me know who is making my order, whether it’s in the oven or not, and whether the driver has left yet. Even if this order monitoring system isn’t completely accurate, I still have to salute you and say that it’s quite a country when you can watch the status of your pizza order in real time.

And, as someone who dislikes speaking on the phone, I’ll say once again that I appreciate not having to explain what I want to a human being. Human beings are fallible. Human beings make mistakes. And oh, Domino’s, how your people made mistakes on Saturday evening.

Here was the situation: my brothers and I ordered a meal deal that came with two pizzas, cheesy bread and a 2-liter of Diet Coke. About 30 minutes from the time the order was placed I got a call from the delivery guy wanting to clarify which number was my apartment number, and which number was my street number. This concerned me greatly as my street number and my apartment number are thousands of numbers apart, and if he’s looking for a street address featuring my apartment number, then he’s probably miles away. Also, Domino’s is really nearby so hopefully he’d be familiar enough with the area? So I was concerned, but tried not to show it.

Ten minutes later, a knock on the door. I sign the receipt and I am handed two pizza boxes. “Um,” I say. “We had cheesy bread and a 2-liter Diet Coke as well.” Dude looks at my receipt and says, “Aww, my bad, I’ll run back to the store and get it.” Frankly I had my doubts, cause he’d already gotten and paid and tipped. I figured we’d never see him again.

And actually, we didn’t see him, not the next time a knock came at the door 10 minutes later. There was a different delivery guy, offering me a thing of cheesy bread. Now, maybe I shouldn’t have done this…I feel a little bad that I did, cause it wasn’t so terribly important, but I said, “Um, we had a two-liter of Diet Coke also?” And the guy got very confused, and he’s like, “I don’t know what you had, they just told me to bring this to you. I’ll call the store.”

So another ten minutes later, another knock. It was the original delivery guy. He said he was sorry and he asked if we had gotten the cheesy bread, and then he handed me a two-liter of Diet Coke and a 12-oz Sprite “for my troubles.” And that’s how it took us three separate visits by Domino’s to get our entire four-item order.

Now, Domino’s, as I started this letter, you’ve had troubles lately. That means that until things die down some, you should probably make sure that you don’t screw up the orders of the people who are ordering from you in this crisis. Because now I think that I shouldn’t order from you ever again, Domino’s, because now I think I’m probably on some Domino’s watch list at that store as demanding, and if I do order again, then you probably will spit in my food and do other bad things to it. Do you see how you screwed up? Do you offer me a lifetime of free pizza to make up for it? Think about it.

Fondly,
Molly