Calling for a home-delivered pizza is not as easy as pie.
Before you pick up the phone to order a pizza, you have to examine the menu leaflet with close attention. You can’t depend on the employee who answers the phone to explain the options, offers and toppings, and even if he does, you’re not sure you will understand what he’s saying.
“Hello-thank-you-for-calling-Domino’s-would-you-like-to-try-our-special-cheese-burst-pizza?” As always, I have to ask the voice to please say that again. After I’ve agreed on cheese burst pizzas (cheese poore crust mein hota hai), it’s time to decide on toppings.
I want two pizzas but have four eaters — three vegetarian and one non. The voice of Domino’s is nonplussed, so I suggest one pizza with vegetarian toppings, and the other, half vegetarian and half non. I add that mushrooms, paneer and pineapple are not welcome. “Golden crone” (i.e., sweet corn) is more than welcome. I’ll spare you the details — it is an intricate process, requiring my patience and his cooperation.
At Papa John’s, a speedy but slurred voice answers. I agree to a family-size thin crust, again half and half (they don’t do thirds) to feed two vegetarians and one non. But the selection of toppings is a trial: the voice of Papa John’s takes frequent breaks in mid-sentence (my sentence), to attend to other phone calls. “Which margarita you want?” he asks, and I splutter “No margarita!” before realising he’s telling someone else. Garden Special, he suggests, adding offline, “Paharganj 35-40 minutes.” Veggie Barbecue, what’s that? “Just a moment sir.” Hot Pepper Passion, sounds tasty — ouch, a piercing tone in my ear. Tiring!
At the next company, the voice doesn’t have a ready chat-up line. I have to ask: “Chicago Pizza?” Yes it is. I want one pizza for two eaters: one vegetarian and one non. The voice is dismissive; the minimum order for delivery is Rs 300. What sizes of pizza do they have? “Inches ka koi hisaab nahin hota hai,” they sell only by the slice. (But just the other day two full pizzas were delivered at the office.) Some confusing maths ensues, and when it comes to toppings, the voice tells me that they have chicken pepperoni (but they don’t, it’s pork) and finally says, away from the phone, Zyada jhila raha hai, yaar. Suddenly I have a new, and more able, conversant. I order four different slices and drop the phone, exhausted. Later I realise that I forgot to ask, and they forgot to tell me, how much I would have to pay.
The pizzas arrive; my colleagues eat. My appetite has faded somewhat.
Score: 6/10 for Domino’s, 4/10 for Papa John’s, 3/10 for Chicago. Patience, manners and clarity count.
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