Ordering Pizza

The disadvantages of living in a smaller city is that sooner or later you become recognizable. What used to be a hi-how-are-ya turns into a more intimate conversation like asking how my day has been going.

So I have begun to stake out shifts and workers and plan my grocery shopping accordingly. It is exhausting work but I am willing to make that sacrifice. Unfortunately the stars align in such a way that makes getting food impossible and I am faced with the dreaded choice of calling in for food. I'd use my computer but I the exorcism still hasn't fully taken effect since the last time.

After a good hour or so of getting myself mentally prepared for such a venture, I pick up the phone and punch in the numbers.

Holy crap, it's ringing. Maybe no one will answer, that would be alright, I should just hang up now. I don't want to bother anybody and hey who needs food I could stand to lose a few pounds why just the other day...

Phone guy: Generic Pizza Joint how can I help you?
Me: Um, yes I want a pizza.
Phone guy: Silence
Me: Yep, a nice edible pizza
Phone guy: With what?
Me: Everything God I hate decisions. Who eats everything. I don't like everything, why can't they read my mind. I shouldn't be allowed to make choices
Phone guy: Pick up or delivery
Me: Pick-livery
Phone guy: What.
Me: Delivery. I decided delivery. I am so sorry. You've been great. Really, I'm sorry.
Phone guy: Thank you for choosing Generic Pizza Joint. Have a nice evening.
Me: Love you too.

Now my stomach is in so many knots I no longer want the pizza I probably won't eat.
Breathe, relax it's different guy they send to drive the car. He won't know what you did over the phone. Yeah but I know what I said and oh god there go the butterflies in my stomach again. I just want to die. Just curl up into a ball in the corner and never speak again. 

Am I even dressed to receive a delivery guy. Is there a dress code? I wonder if I should Google that. Is that excessive. That's probably excessive. I should at least get off the floor.

Doorbell rings and I crawl across the floor to answer it, much like a snail given performance enhancing drugs. Dude hands me the pizza and I exchange cash for said food. This is great. We don't have to speak at all. Just a simple monetary transaction.
Until Dude holds his hand out for his tip money and I blurt out.

Yep, just another number I have to add to places I can never call again.