Spit

Oh, how I hate to complain. You wouldn't think it, probably, because I've blogged about my emailing a restaurant before...twice. Oh my goodness, am I a complainer-in-denial? I really don't think so. If you consider the volume of eating out that I do as compared to three complaint letters in ten years, I really should get some slack.

Anyway, I did it again. This time I had to or Jim would, and he's a little more blunt than I am. ;-p My favorite pizza in Nashville is from an independent place in East Nashville. It has been my favorite since Kelley and Ned introduced me, and I drug Jim in with me soon after he and I met. He flipped for it, too. The fact that they deliver to my house is icing.

We ordered a pizza the other night and for the second time in as many months, it was terrible. I don't mean I'm-being-a-princess-and-complaining terrible, it was just TERRIBLE. So, I posted about it on our community message board. I asked if anyone knew if there was new ownership or other problems and within an hour, the owner emailed me personally. Within 24 hours, he had pinpointed the problem and emailed again to follow up and explain.

Holy cow. Who knew there was service like this anymore? We have to order again.

...and we fully understand that every single employee who got into trouble over this will have taken the opportunity to spit on our pizza before it arrives.

-b