Letters To No One: A Preliminary Response From Pizza Hut

As I was leaving work last evening, I checked my cellphone and noticed I had three text messages and a voice mail. This is not entirely uncommon, seeing as how I am an immensely popular public figure who has to constantly deal with the demands of friends and family who often claim to “never see or hear from” me. The messages were fairly standard, your “What are we doing for dinner?” “Yo fag, call me” run-of-the-mill type stuff. The voicemail, though, was completely unexpected. It was from a woman who claimed to be the manager of the Pizza Hut I ordered from Thursday night. She asked me please to call her back as soon as possible. I waited until I had driven up over the hill with the dead spot on Glendale, and then searched my recent phone calls for Pizza Hut’s number.

A young man answered the phone — not the asshole who I spoke with at great length the other night — and he quickly handed the phone off to the manager. She introduced herself as Lou, and told me she had received an e-mail concerning my experience. Personally I was hoping for a Yum! Brands executive to call me, but this was a start.

Lou asked me to tell her the full story, from start to finish, so I basically restated everything from the letter and made sure to tell her that I in no way held her accountable for any of the unfortunate events which befell me. At the end of my tale, she said “Oh, my” a few times, and apologized profusely. She then asked me, “So, how many free pizza you want?”

As if I’m some kind of pathetic knave whose respect can be bought for the price of a measly pizza pie. What kind of fucked up world do we live in where people are expected to just forget about grievances by accepting free goods or services? That’s pretty fucked up, right?

“I give you four free pizzas,” she said. I was thinking more along the lines of twenty five free pizzas.

“Make it six. I ordered six last night.” She agreed, told me that she would attach a note to my name and phone number that would be put “on file”, and told me I should feel comfortable calling back any time. Before I could say, “Make it twenty five pizzas,” Lou hung up the phone.

What the fuck am I going to do with six pizzas? They’re not going to make me any happier. I’m certainly not going to forget this happened (twenty five free pizzas probably would have helped). I’m taking my case all the way to the highest court in the land: the Yum! Brands food court. I’m not literally talking about a food-court like they have in large shopping malls, but a court of law that is presided over by top level executives at Yum! Brands. I’ve already e-mailed them the same letter I posted here yesterday. I’m going to state and restate my case before those assholes until somebody listens and gives me the God damned respect that I deserve. I will not go gentle in that good night. I will Rage, rage against Pizza Hut for as long as it takes. Until either they’ve offered me a cash settlement (I’m fucking poor guys, what do you expect?) or twenty five free pizzas. I’d also take free P’zones for life. Actually, if they offered me free P’zones for life I’d give them the free six pizzas back. I’m that nice of a guy.